Cut Through the Heart
by kkolmakov
Summary: Modern AU. Third in the series after "Touch the Nerve" and "Strike the Cord". Wren Leary is way out of her depth. What did she get herself into when she presumingly agreed on relationships with Dr. Dark and Sexy, brilliant neurosurgeon John Thorington? He is twenty years older, arrogant, mistrustful and old money. Wren is in a pickle *No Infringement Intended*
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: ****Ready, my lovelies? ****Here we go! :) **

**A/N#2: As this chapter has been ready right after the last one in "Strike the Cord", all your prompts will be in the next one. Feel free to send more! :)**

**A/N#3: PS, I decided to end the previous story where I did because it was all about Wren, and for her it was an end of a big chapter in her life. And for John, it was a big deal to for him to make this leap and whether he gets the girl (of course he will :) is the next question. Trust me, you will get all the goodness that follows those changes in them in this one. Enjoy!**

"Are you going?" "I don't know". "Of course you are. What are you going to wear?" "I don't know." "How about that nice jersey dress you bought last month? It will be perfect for almost any location. Where is he taking you?" "Thea…" "Are you going to sleep with him after that dinner?" "I don't know, Thea!"

You growl and hide your head under the pillow. "Wren, I see an alarming lack of enthusiasm in you. You should be pissing happy right now. You broke the pattern, changed the star alignments, you practically turned the universe upside down!" "I got asked out, Thea." "By Dr. Delicious!" Oh, that's new. "Wren, you got asked to a date by a man who doesn't date. Ever. Who claimed it repeatedly. Who is emotionally scarred and endlessly mistrustful. Bugger, Wren, you are in deep shite." Now she gets it.

You pull your head from under the pillow. Thea is contemplating your hair. "I gather the reception went well? You came back super late with your shoes in your hands. Meaning you stood a lot, so your were talking to people, and not sitting sadly in a corner like a nobby-no-mates. Your hair was all messed up. So I presume there was a lot of vigorous dancing", she is deducing.

Have you mentioned that Thea has this scary ESP when it comes to any sort of social life? "Tell me, Wren, where did you go after the reception?" Her tone is very stern. Bugger. Did you mentioned that she has an even better ESP for anything that has to do with sex? The stupidest thing to do is to try to lie to her. "Nowhere."

She jumps at you and pulls the blanket off your head. "Wren, you slut, you met up with Dr. Delicious after the reception!" Fuck, fuck, fuck.

**XXX**

He slowly lifts his face and looks you in the eyes. "Will you go on a date with me, Wren?" Yes, yes, yes, bloody hundred times yes! "Is it a good idea though, Dr. Thorington?" He straightens up and looks down at your with warm gleam of smile in his blazing blue irises. "I think it is the best bloody idea ever." You smirk. He smirks back.

And then he cups you face and lowers his lips to yours. You hold your breath. An inch away from your mouth he stops. Are you fucking kidding me? Is he teasing? "Wren?" "Hm," you look at him. He looks hesitant and the old hurt of rejection stirs in you. "Can I?.." "What?" "Kiss you."

Pillock. You grab the back of his head and pull him in. It is so good that you raspily moan in the middle of a posh hotel lobby and press you whole body into him. There are probably two to four members of your earlier audience roaming around. To say nothing of the fact that you are ruining Thea's masterpiece that is your lipstick. "Frenzied Peach" is quickly disappearing. Some of it gets spread over his lips. But most of the upper lip coverage is probably on the way to his stomach now. That thing he does when kissing… Let's say you will need couple hours in a bathtub tonight just to mollify your raging libido.

"Have a drink with me, Wren," he is whispering. "After the reception..." His lips slide on your neck. Shite, there might be minors in here. You have a quick peek. It's mostly empty, the receptionist is purposefully ignoring you and busily disappears in the back room. "I don't drink." "Let's have tea." He is smiling in your skin. You shake your head. "Water? Pickle juice?" You guffaw.

You twist out of his arms. "I'll text you when I'm done in here. And if I'm not too tired," you lift your index finger in what you think is a strict gesture, and he suddenly catches your hand with his hot palm and kisses the pulp of your finger. What did you get yourself into, Wren? You are so bloody out of your depth. He is still holding your hand and now his thumb is caressing the inner side of your wrist. Bloody hell… "Can I have your number, please." "Don't you have my card?"

He places a small kiss where his thumb was a second ago. "I probably lost it." He smirks and lets go. Phew, that was getting really… what? You don't even know how to describe the dizzy, heated, messy contortion of sensations he is giving you. He pulls another card from his wallet. You decorously put it in your clutch.

"And it's not a date. We are just going for a cup of tea." As if. But you are not going to do it anyways. Hah! And now you have a reception to attend. "Good evening, Dr. Thorington." He lifts a mocking brow. Arrogant prick. "Good night, Miss Leary."

You need to fix your lipstick. And make sure it isn't smeared all over your neck. He turns around but then you call him, "John?" That is your seductive, suggestive tone. If he had ears like a cat, they would so perk up right now. He spins on his heels. "You should probably get rid of this lipstick on your beard." You demonstrate him your best catwalk U-turn and head to the washroom. You hear a throaty chuckle behind you.

**XXX**

The party indeed goes well. You have half a glass of champagne, which for you is an equivalent of slightly pissed, maybe two to three glasses of wine or so for a normal person. Champagne is worse for you since it's fizzy. You chat, you mingle, you dance. A lot. The shoes are killing you but it's so worth it. The staff in the Elwig Institute is lovely, and you are seriously considering Dr. Elwig's offer to stay. You will think about it later.

At some point you run into a tall blond guy with a fag at the balcony. He jumps away and hides it behind his back. "Oh, it's you," he sounds relieved. He looks weirdly familiar. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." "No worries. I'm hiding a cigarette like a spotty teenager. How pathetic is that? And my Dad is not even here. It's a force of habit, can you imagine?" He has a wonderful sincere laugh. He is very easy on the eyes too. My oh my. But something in his face makes you uncomfortable. "Want one?" That is it!

"Are you Elliot Thrundon's son?" "Guilty," the smile is sad. He pushes the fag in the corner of his mouth and stretches his hand towards you, "Lan." That is not the name that is floating somewhere in your slightly inebriated mind. "It's a nickname, the real name is too posh and toffy for me." "Wren Leary." "Pleasure to meet you, Wren Leary. You rocked the auditorium today." "You work here?" "Yep, I'm the black sheep in the Thrundon family." "Kudos to you in my books for that." Yikes, shut your gob, Wren. He gives out more of his silver laughter. "I like you, Wren Leary." "Likewise."

**XXX**

It's past midnight and you have sobered up again. You are exhausted and carry your nude pumps in your hand. Let's face it, you stayed as long as you could partially to be too knackered to avoid the siren call of John's card in your clutch. You plod into the lift, and the doors are closing behind you. At the last moment a hand slams on the edge of the door and with a mournful squeak it opens. You turn around to see who it is, when a long familiar arm snakes around your waist and you are pulled into an absolutely indecent kiss with none other but Dr. John Crispin Thorington.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: As ****Just4Me****so observantly noticed, this story has an overall lighter mood. I just think Wren deserves a bit of joy in her life. There will be drama later of course, but so far... Frolics ensue! :)**

One thing has to be said about Dr. Thorington. He is a mind-blowing kisser. He will be presumably exceptional in the sack, not that you are going to investigate any time soon. No, no, none of that nonsense. No, no... Oh, yes!... His lips slide on the corner of your mouth and you feel a gentle caress of the tip of his tongue. Mamma bloody mia…

Where were you? Right, he is definitely going to be a magnificent shag, but right now, enveloped in his arms, you are receiving some sort of special treatment, sent to Earth by all possible deities and previously soaked in ambrosia and powdered by fairy dust.

He is switching between tender caresses and greedy nips and sucks, and you are literally swooning. You realized you have spent quite a while in this lift but he doesn't seem to be bothered. Your feet are getting cold in the stockings on the floor, but hell, if you are going to interrupt him!

The magic of his kisses is in one simple fact. He is not trying to achieve anything by his actions. He is just really enjoying the process. It is not a seduction technique, it is not a hurried half arse attempts to turn you on before a quick boff, it is not a performance to show his skill. You hear a low rumble in his chest. Is he bloody purring?!

Then suddenly the tone changes, and he smiles into your mouth. Then he dips you backwards, and the kiss is theatrical and silly. You start laughing. He kisses the hollow between your clavicles and you choke on your frolics. "Cold?" He points at your feet with his eyes. "Yes," you have to clear your throat. You sound way too breathy. He picks you up bridal style. "Press the button, Miss Leary."

"Which floor?" "Well, I'm in the penthouse..." Posh tosser. "Third it is." The trip is short but he manages to give you an appreciative lookover. You accept your destiny and enjoy the trip. "Lovely dress, Miss Leary." Oh, you are so crazy about his eyes when they are glinting with this mischief, the corners of sensual lips twitching. Tha is the man you want between your sheets! Fuck, Wren, some self-control would be nice! "Thank you, Dr. Thorington."

The door opens on your floor. He strides out of the lift. "Which way, Miss Leary?" "Left. You do realize, Dr. Thorington, that I have another person sleeping in my room?" "Your friend Thea Martin, I presume," hm, interesting. "I might have asked around when I saw you at the breakfast." "You spied on me?" Creep! He laughs. "I asked one male employee of the hotel if he saw you and he told me all about a vivacious, voluptuous, chestnut haired young woman you share your room with." Damn, are you feeling a prickle of jealousy? Well, that's just bonkers. But considering you just tried to make him jealous, you deserve it.

"This one." He places you on the floor in front of your door. You feel like in the seventh Grade, when Paul O'Hara walked you home, and the whole times you were thinking what you were going to do if he wanted to kiss you, and there was this awkward moment, whether you are supposed to… Thorington presses your body into the door. Well, that answers your question.

This time you are participating more actively, your hands are in the thick hair on his nape and he bends down to give you more access to his mouth. You open his lips with your tongue, and, was that a moan?

He steps back and exhales sharply. "Good night, Miss Leary." Ha, now whose chest is heaving, Dr. I-am-going-to-saunter-and-daze-her-with-my-magnificent-kissing? You are especially enjoying the view of his raging erection in his denim. Have fun with that tonight!

"G'night, John," you murmur and slip into the room. The last thing you see is a dazed half-lidded gaze from Dr. John Thorington. Red spots are burning on his cheekbones above his black beard, his ponytail in disarray. Point Wren.

**XXX**

"Nothing happened. We kissed, he walked me to the room." "Awwww," Thea coos. See how omitting some details immediately turns a bloody gropefest into a romantic encounter? "Did he ask you out for dinner?" "No, actually he didn't. He mentioned it earlier, but to think of it, later he switched to "let's have a drink after the reception"."

"Well, let's wait and see where it all goes. And now to the most important part," she settles down on your bed, "tell me everything about the kiss." You groan and fall face down into your pillow. Telling her about it will be like pressing "Repeat" button. You will have to relive it all and then... release your tension. Again.

**XXX**

After breakfast you leave Thea in the talented hands of Tom, a masseur, and judging by the heated glances they are exchanging, she will be preoccupied for a while. You return to the Rivendell. You have a few meetings in your itinerary. You are increasingly in love with the center. As competitive as the environment in here is, you don't feel the stressful energy that hacks you off in the Yamataki lab.

Around lunch time you are chatting with a few postgrad students in a cubicle, when a door opens and Dr. Elwig walks in. "Wren, lovely to see you." "Dr. Elwig, good day. I am being persuaded by your postgrads to apply for an internship in your center." "Just like I offered you yesterday, Wren, we need you here," you catch a glimpse of the students exchanging glances. Should you be creeped out or flattered?

"Stealing our best, Hugo?" John's velvet voice comes from the partition. Oh, your ovaries were not ready for Dr. Delicious in a white button-up shirt and a steely grey jacket with a bright pink pocket square. "I'm sure Miss Leary can speak for herself and for her employment choices," Elwig's tone is very haughty. And now please run around me and pee on my leg. Chauvinistic pigs.

Thorington gives Elwig an unpleasant smile and then suddenly snakes his arm around your waist and kisses your cheek. "Morning, Wren." What the actual fuck?! "Hugo here is showing me around, and now he is taking me to lunch. Speaking of a smooth talker. Would you care to join us?" Definitely pee on my leg. And then start throwing poo at each other. "I'm sorry but I already made plans with these lovely young people here." You give the postgrads a stern look and they start nodding vigorously.

"Such a pity," his voice is low and seductive, and he lifts a brow. "Till dinner then?" Can he be any more puffed up? "Enjoy your lunch, Dr. Thorington." He smiles to you and turns to Elwig. "Lead the way, Hugo. After all it is still your center." They leave and you sag on a nearest desk.

You realize that the lab is completely silent. You turn and see five pairs of widened shocked eyes. "Was that John Thorington?" One of girls manages to squeeze out of herself. "Yep. He is one of the heads of the project I work in." "John Thorington, as in the John Thorington?" Another girl is madly googling on her phone. "Yep." "Jesus fucking Christ, Wren, what was this?" One of the male students can't contain his hysterical scream anymore.

"They hate each others guts since uni days. Thorington seduced Elwig's girlfriend. Since then Elwig refuses to work with him, but since after yesterday the labs are starting to cooperate, they will probably try to steal each other's scientists and drag each other through dirt."

Your explanations didn't make it easier for them to digest what just happened. At this moment Lan wanders in the lab with a cup of pot noodles in his hands. He is singing and to your pure shock you understand that it is this half arse "hit" by Avicii. He has a nice voice, but still, what the fuck? _"Hey sister, do you still believe in love, I wonder?"_ He freezes on the doorstep with noodles hanging from a plastic fork. "What did I miss?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Are you gay, Lan?" He stops chewing his biscuit and lifts a black brow. That is quite a move, to be honest! Almost as good as John's. Please, say yes! "You see, I have had some unpleasant experiences later, mistaking being chummy with someone for… you know… And you never should date your friend hoping it will turn into something more… And I mean you are gorgeous, I'm super comfortable with you, I want to be friends, and..." "Yes, I am." "Oh Mother of God, thank you!" He is laughing. "Never been thanked for it before."

You take another sip of your tea. "I do feel really comfortable with you. It's rare for me lately. Men frighten me," you whisper in a mock conspiratorial manner. He chuckles. "Do you also have a jealous boyfriend?" Do you, Wren? "I'm not sure what I have. It's complicated." "When isn't it?" He is staring at his ginger nut. "Oh?" "Nasty breakup, eight months ago, dry spell." Really, with these looks? Hell, what's wrong with men these days? "Nasty breakup, seven months ago, something barmy going on now." Yep, that's about sums it up.

"Does this something barmy involve a brilliant but stroppy legend of neurosurgery?" He gives you a mischievous sideglance. "Alice told me." Alice is one of the postgrads. No wonder, after all the parading he did in front of them and Dr. Elwig. "That was mostly for Elwig's sake. He suspects Dr. Hugo wants to knick me for his center. I feel so desirable right now," you mockingly press your palms to your chest and flutter your eyelashes. Lan laughs. "You do realize that Elwig is like that with everyone?" "I bloody hope so. The last thing I need is another of these stories!" Oops.

Lan is giving you the brow again. Shite. "Recently I get hit on mostly by older sods. Something is wrong with the universe." "Hm..." Don't tell him about his father, don't tell him about his father. "So, you are after all the girl my Dad had his nose broken over." Fuck.

"What?" "Dr. Thorington fixed my father's highly cherished profile." He turns his head sideways and points on his own nose bridge. "The treasure of the Thrundon family. I'm sure a good plastic surgeon can return it to its former glory, but the horrible crime will never be forgotten." You are mortified. And aroused. What a fuck? How is this knuckle-dragging, misogynistic, barbaric behaviour a good thing, Wren? And still, awwww, he fought for your honour. Poppycock, he was marking his territory again. Pillock. And it's not even about you, it's some old beef. Oh, by the way…

"What is it between your Dad and Thorington by the way?" "My mom." What now? His face is expressionless. "Literally. She had switched between the two three times. Couldn't choose." Ahhhh, you feel like bashing your head into a wall. No, please, not another brutal convoluted story in his past. You are so not ready to deal with it! "Chose my dad eventually. Better family, bigger mansion, I suppose." He sounds so cold. "Died five years ago." Now you are not that comfortable with him any more.

"I'm sorry." "We are quite a family, Wren. He hated her for loving Thorington, because if she was ever capable of any human emotions it was only towards our good Dr. John. She hated me for ruining her health and looking like my father. He hated Thorington for obvious reasons. Thorington, I suppose, just despises us all. Never loved her, you know?"

Guh, that's the limit of your endurance. You drop your head on the table and groan. Kill me now… Wait. "What do you mean she hated you? You are her son." He laughs joylessly. "Her cancer started after the complicated birth. She wasn't a very affectionate woman anyways. I envy you since you think that a mother is supposed to love her child." "I am an orphan."

"Shite, sorry, Wren," he is sincerely upset. "Did I win the prize?" "What?" "I thought it is the competition for the most pathetic family circumstances." He starts laughing. "I still won. My mother was a cut throat gold-digger." "I never had one. I want my trophy." You are laughing together now. It becomes so uncontrollable that you have to hang on to each other.

Then you choke on your laughter. Judging by John's snarl he is not enjoying the view of you wrapped around a gorgeous young bloke.

**XXX**

"Dr. Thorington, we were just talking about you," the laughter is still rolling in Lan's voice. Yep, you both are demented. You really shouldn't but you just can't help it. You giggle. Oh great, that's obviously hysterics. "I am flattered." Are you now, John, then why are your fists clenched? "Miss Leary, could I have a word with you in private?"

You let go of Lan's shoulders you were hugging and get up like a badly behaved pupil called into a headmaster's office. John opens a door leading inside for you, you were sitting in a roof garden, and you are demurely walking in. And then you give Lan a glance over your shoulder. He is hardly controlling a smile. You have to bite your lip too.

You mince pass John and feel his heavy stare at the back of your neck. He picks up your elbow and almost drags you in an empty office. Oh, look, there is a convenient desk here again. Shall we reenact the previous similar encounter? But this time it's him hissing and pointing his finger. "I do not enjoy being mocked, Miss Leary," his eyes are dark and dangerous. "Your attentions to other men are your personal business, you haven't promised me anything, but I will not be ridiculed." You've noticed that the angrier he gets, the posher his speech is. It's when he is turned on, that it is all swearing and muttering.

"I apologise, Dr. Thorington, we were behaving childishly, but you just looked so grumpy," you flutter your lashes. He looks flabbergasted. What? You know long words too. "Grumpy?" You nod. "Grumpy?!" He emits a growl and pulls you into a steamy kiss. Oh yes, Dr. Delicious has buttons and you seem to be learning where to push.

He backs you into a wall and bites your bottom lip. Fuck, it's so hot! His skin heats up with an astonishing speed under your hands, you slide your fingers under the starched collar of the shirt, and he moans into your mouth.

There is probably something wrong with his noggin. Does he get turned on from being jealous? He obviously has vast unresolved trust issues, how is seeing you with another guy an aphrodisiac for him? Or is he trying to remind you now why you don't need to look elsewhere?

Because it's working. Mommy… Your knees are buckling and he picks you up and flops you on a nearest lab table. Let's hope there is nothing biohaz here. There are people behind that door! It's not even locked! Oh, for God sake, whatever!

Common, Wren, you can do it. Don't fuck it up! It is time. You grew up and you can build something instead of making immature spasmodic decisions and attaching yourself to a first guy who show you a bit of warmth and affection. Even if nothing comes out of this, let's face it, absolutely mental idea of relationships you need to do it right this time. You need some integrity and openness, and you really need to shag him... No! Not the priority now. Fuck, you are so wet right now!

You press your palms on his chest and give him a small but assured push. He lets go of your mouth and lowers his head breathing laboriously. His palms are on the table, on the sides of your hips, and the resemblance to the last time is uncanny. You cup his face and lift it to look into his eyes.

"I do not give my attentions to other men." You smile to him. "Although I indeed haven't promised you anything, you did invite me to dinner. That would be unfair. Although I do not remember you confirming the offer. " He straightens up and smiles at you.

You see cogs turning in that big head of his. We are doing it right, John. Integrity, openness, and no running around like a flailing chicken. And no shagging until you are sure, Wren. Your lady parts emit a lamenting protest. Shut it, Miss Fanny, you are not in charge here!

"Will you have dinner with me tonight, Wren?" "I'd love to."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This fic is developing unexpectedly. It was supposed to be a dramatic, intense story of how they finally fall in love (and it cuts through their hearts, duh:) and learn to be together, but it is stretching, and it's all laughs and smooching and girl talk. This chapter particularly lacks substance (I'm so giggly and giddy today, WTF?:). We are four chapters in, and they are still in the middle of the same weekend. If it keeps going this way then by the seventeenth chapter (that seems to be the average size for this series), they might only be just having sex and none of the deeper issues will be resolved (Thea, Phil, John's fear of commitment etc.) And I'm just so enjoying these light, frilly dalliances :) **

**Let me know what you think. Should I reconsider my approach?**

Nothing works. The dress zipper wouldn't stay closed, the hair is a frizzy nimbus around your head, you poked your eye putting mascara on, twice, blisters on your feet from yesterday don't let you put any of the fancy shoes. Thea is somewhere out and doesn't pick up her phone, and you just want to scream.

You are sprawled on the bed and stare at the ceiling. Right, you will just put on some jeans and a sweater, ballet shoes and wash off that cursed black thing from your eyes. It is seriously eating through your eyeballs. You are still not going to look like a sophisticated grown-up woman, even if you wear this lovely dress that Thea made you buy the other week, why are you even trying? You still look like a skanky teenager in her mom's clothes.

You growl and roll on your stomach. You try to bury your face in a pillow but it makes it worse. Now your eyes really need washing. You tread to the washroom. And now they will be red from the makeup remover. Maybe you should text him that you accidentally died and unfortunately cannot attend?

The phone beeps. Thea, Thea, please tell me it's Thea. Bugger. "Dress casually. JT" What the fuck?! That's a hell of an authoritative tone. And can he be more stuffy? Initials, really? And also, praise the Lord! You peel off the treacherous dress and pull on your jeans.

The door lock clicks. Ah, now she shows up. "Wren, my dear, I feel so great!" She dances into the room. "Every muscle in my body was attended to, and it is a bliss!" Ew, TMI, no details, please! "Wren!" Her voice is suddenly low and intimidating. "Tell me you are not getting ready to go out with Dr. Sexy!" "What? You were encouraging me..." "In that, Wren! Tell me you are not going out with Dr. Delectable Back Side and Effortless Charm in Whatever I Wear in this!" She is pointing at the apparently offensive pair of jeans. "He said to dress casually!"

"And the underwear, Wren! Are you bonkers? This is what you are wearing? It doesn't even deserve to be called bloody lingerie, it is undies and boob holders!" She continues raging. "He is not going to see them!" My poor babies. Don't listen to her, you are gorgeous. And let's face it, comfy. "I'm not sleeping with him today." She cocks a brow at you. "Look back at your record, Wren, and reconsider your previous statement." Um…

"Even better, if I know that my perfectly fine underwear is, according to you, not up for some standard propagated by misogynistic media objectifying women, I will have more reasons to keep them concealed." You try to sound haughty. Whom are you kidding, just a few hours ago on a lab table… Go away, the thought of his massive erection pressing into you that from now on shall be called The Thought! Scram!

Thea sighs. "I'll leave you to your illusions, Wrennie, but you are changing the denim. And what are you wearing on top?" You feel a sheepish desire to push the sweater you chose under the bed. "I haven't decided yet." She puffs in indignation and starts rummaging through your suitcase. She pulls out one of your favourite jumpers. "Really? I can wear this?" "No, Wren I'm holding it in front of your face meaning to say "Seriously?"" She stuffs it back and goes to her side of the room.

"On, no Thea, nothing of yours will fit me. And I already feel inadequate near him, like I'm a chavvy teenage girl, the age, the status..." You are mumbling and then stop. She is holding one of her most favourite striped cashmere tops. "Oh Thea, it will never look good on this..." You gesture around your chest area. She sighs again. "And I can't, Thea. It is your favourite. What is I ruin it? "Shut up and take it. It is a special day for you, and I'm a brill friend." Yes, she is. "And if it gets torn into shreds by the large and impatient hands of Dr. Sexy, be it." Didn't really need this image, thank you very much.

You take it and pull it on. She clasps a thin red belt around you and turns you to look in the mirror. You look incredible. You are all cute, sexy, and Twiggy-ish. The low cut shows your collarbone, the neck looks long and delicate. "You need a French braid." You are never arguing clothes choices with Thea again. She braids your hair and smiles.

"Now you are ready!" "I'm keeping the jeans though." "Whatever, but you are so yummy right now that I would seriously reconsider the underwear."

No, you are growing as a person. You can do it. The Thought comes back, and you bite your lip. Oh, poop.

**XXX**

He is leaning on the column in the lobby. Fuck, look at this legs and torso ratio. The legs just go on forever, the shoulders are wide, and the waist… Stop bloody ogling him, Wren. You are building meaningful relationships here, it's not about sex. Well… No, you've been there before. You need to learn to talk to each other for a change.

He smiles. "You look lovely tonight, Wren." You loop your arm through his. "Thank you. So, where are we going?" "There is a very nice pub not far from here. If you don't mind, I would love to just spend a quiet evening together. Nothing pretentious, great food, talking..." Oh, it sounds way too good to be true. Why do you feel that it is an even more elaborate trick than inviting a girl to a fancy restaurant and showing up with a dozen of red roses?

"Lovely, I think it is a perfect idea."

**XXX**

"So you really don't drink?" He pops a battered crayfish in his mouth. "No, I can survive one glass of wine but after that it's like food poisoning." "It's the hair, isn't it?" You hum in agreement. Random appetizers, fish and chips, he is having a lager, you stick with lemon water. "Small ale?" "Nope, makes me sick." "How do you fix your teeth then? I assume it goes for the meds as well." You chuckle. "As rarely as I can. I was luckily blessed with little problems in this area."

"That's tough life, kiddo," his shakes his head and takes a sip from his glass. "I am managing," you laugh, "You? Any allergies?" "Not that I know of." He is smiling to you. God, he is good-looking. The curled up corners of his lips, the lush lashes, the long nose… "Anything else you want to ask about?"

"No, thank you, I've had enough new information for one day." Fuck. Why can you never keep your mouth shut? He leans back on the booth seat. "From Thrundon's sprog, I presume." The tone is cold. You shift on the seat uncomfortably and look in your plate. "It is none of my business. Just wasn't a nice story." "None of my past stories are nice, Wren."

You look at him. His face is cold and reserved. "We all do things we regret." "I hate to break it to you, Wren, but I do not particularly regret anything that I've done in my life. Especially when it comes to women. I never forced anyone into anything." The muscles on his jaw are tense. Right, manipulating them into doing something they didn't want though…

"Right," you pick up a chip and bite a piece, "And how is it going for you? How are you enjoying your plenteous, meaningful life, full of satisfying relationships and warm, significant moments?"

You are staring at each other, and he is the first to lower his eyes. You chew and wait for him to speak. He lifts his eyes and smiles. "It's shite." Yep. "But it's not so bad right now." Tacky bastard. You take a sip of your water and ignore the butterflies in your stomach.


	5. Chapter 5

You eat and talk, actually talk, like in a meaningful conversation, get to know each other talk. A bit about music, you remember the Aznavour album in his car, films and books, his uni years, how everything was different and the same at the same time. You laugh a lot, he has an acidic sense of humour. You both are obviously avoiding sensitive topics. But you can't help but wonder for how long you can sustain this pleasant fragile harmony since the above mentioned topics are so numerous. His family, consequently your past, your family, six fostr ones to be precise, his past, the work, the foundation, the lab, the Riverdell…

He excuses himself and goes to the bathroom. And you feel stupid but keep on thinking about the conversation you had with Phil. How past is past, and whatever happened before doesn't matter. Because it obviously fucking does. And no amount of ignoring, forgiving and being noble about it is going to fix it. You feel all of a sudden sad. What did you get yourself into? And more so, what's the point?

You mind is racing, and you just can't seem to stop it. Where will you two go from here? Let's face it, these relationships are bloody doomed, and you are so over meaningless sex. You have been burned, so it is done. And you will get attached if you sleep with him, and involved, because he will just absorb you, because he will never care for you the way you could care for him, and you will disappear…

"Did you realize it was a shortsighted idea to go out with me and these relationships are condemned from the start while I was in a loo?" Oh fuck. You lift your eyes. He is standing with his hands in the denim pockets with an cold smirk on his lips. You gulp. "Why? Have you arrived to the same conclusions while you were in a loo?" "No, it's just you look rather nauseated. And I learnt to take it as a sign that you are doubting your propensity towards me."

"You see, Wren, that is usually the moment when you shake off your infatuation with me and rush to the door. After an optional slap or two." "Should I?" Why are you asking him? It's not like you are friends and he will give you a wise piece of advice. Besides, you've already tried it with a friend. Remember, how fucking well it ended, Wren?

"Up to you, kiddo," is this going to be his usual moniker for you? A wee bit patronizing, don't you think? Well, if you actually run now, you won't have to hear it ever again. He is standing waiting for your answer.

"I think we should go back to the hotel," your tone is flat. He nods and leaves the cash on the table. You are reaching for your wallet. "For once, let me please pay." "You always pay for me!" "I've never paid for you." "In Hilton?" Oh, none of your probably needed this reminder.

He gives you a pointed look. Right… "It's a date, Wren. I'm entitled to the right to pay for you." "It's an outdated notion." "I am old. Suck it up!" You freeze in front of him and then you both burst laughing.

His laugh is boisterous, rumbling in his chest, eyes closed, white teeth gleaming. And suddenly you just need to do it. You press into him and wrap your arms around his middle. He chokes on his laughter but immediately hugs you in return. You press your face into the warm chest and snuggle into him. Oh fuck, even if doesn't work out, you will have this moment. His heart under your ear, the hard muscles, the smell of the cologne and his skin. He chuckles.

And you remember, that is how it all started and that is why it all fucking happened! Since the night in the tent, when he wrapped his arms around you, when you just got into his sleeping bag, and before it all got arsed up, for the first time, it was this piercing, painful feeling of breathtaking happiness!

"Well, now that slap is worth it. Bring it on." You chuckle too, but keep on nuzzling him. Not only because it feels so fucking good, but you are also bloody embarrassed. You are cuddling Dr. Dark and Sexy! Sober up, Wren! Aren't you supposed to be mature, sophisticated and confident? Well, bugger… Too late for that.

He doesn't seem to be in much hurry to detangle from you either. He puts his chin on the top of your head and hugs you tighter. Well, there is only one way out of it that will allow you to save the remainder of your dignity. You let him go, step back and immediately grab the back of his neck. You have to stand on your tippy toes for that. You pull him down and he obeys.

The kiss is passionate but gentle, his lips on your upper lip again, and that is now your favourite quirk of his. One hand on your shoulder blades, so large that it is almost covering both of them, the second one on your nape, he floods your senses, and you are soon panting while he is peppering kisses on your jaw.

"John," you sound like a Victorian era heroine. Pity you don't have much in the bosom department, to heave above the lacy bodice of your atlas dress. He shifts and looks at you. He looks so appetizing! The flushed cheeks, the huge pupils, swollen lips, oh give me, give me, give me! The Though stampedes through your brain. Sod it all!

You pull his hand and rush to the door. Fuck getting to know him better, fuck being ready, fuck trust building and integrity something! Hotel, bed, now!

**XXX**

Your coat is on the floor of the lift, you are pulling off his jumper, it's still not public indecency, he has a white tee underneath. God, look at this chest! Even dressed, it is indecent. Positively indecent! He is caging you against a wall, and you push him back, and attack the buckle on his denim.

You tumble out of the lift, tangled and groping, pushing each other into walls, that only slows you down but who cares, and he suddenly pushes you away and rushes back to the elevator. He jams the slowly closing door with his foot and grabs your jackets from the floor. The lift tries to squeeze him again, and he slams his hand into the door.

He darts back to you, rummaging through the pockets of his jacket, drops your coat, ignores it, pulls out his wallet, shakes the magnet key out of it, dropping the wallet to the floor. He doesn't even look, one hand trying to unlock the room, the other pulling you into him again. You are kissing again and fall into the room.

God, you are going to ravish him until he begs for mercy!


	6. Chapter 6

You are pulling the hem of his tee, he grabs the bottom of Thea's top. Arms and clothes get tangled, and you both are laughing. He lets go and cups you face again. The kisses are slower but no less heated, he is savouring, and you can't breathe. He is moving you backwards and you realize than you are in the living room of a giant suite. You twist out of his arms and pull off his tee. Then you grab his hand, see the door to the bedroom and drag him there. A surprised guffaw bursts out of him. You really don't care right now.

He speeds up and the last few steps you are already levitating since he picks you up and throws you on the bed in one fluid precise movement. You quickly get up on your knees on the immense bed and jerk off your sweater. His eyes fall on your bra, and then he freezes. It is such a contrast with his grabbing and nipping and biting from a second ago that you are suddenly mortified.

Fuck, Thea was right. He is looking at your white cotton bra with cheerful pictures of apples and pears, all green and yellow and each in possession of a smiley face, and now he will never want to have sex with you. He probably feels like a pedophile and a predator. Or wondering what is he doing with an unsophisticated chavvy bird like you.

"I don't have a condom." His voice is gruff, and he clears his throat. He finally lifts his eyes at you. "Tell me you have a condom." "No." Oh thank goodness! It's not the bra! "No?" He just parrots what you said and shakes his head to clear his thoughts. "How come you don't have one? Don't you have a hang up?" "I wasn't planning on having sex today." He looks utterly dumbfounded. "Really didn't think we were going there tonight." You start giggling.

He blinks and finally manages to slightly focus. "Right… I'm going to go to the pharmacy on the ground floor and get some." He speaks slowly and with difficulty. This hazed unhinged look is very good on him. "Right? Does that sound right? Where is my wallet?" He looks around completely baffled. You are plain laughing already. "It's in the hall where you threw it on the floor with your jacket and my coat." He blinks again. Awwww... "But I have a better idea. I'm going to go to my room and borrow some from my friend Thea." "Wren, I'm not sending you to fetch condoms," he pronounces it with such aplomb and pathos, standing in front of you with no shirt on and unbuttoned jeans, his hair disheveled, that you fall on the bed in hysterics.

He stares at you for a second and then pounces and presses you into the covers. His hot hands slide under your shoulders and he pins you with a stare. Does he seriously think he is even a bit intimidating? "Stop laughing at me!" "I distinctly remember that you said that shagging me was always at the back of your mind. How come you are not prepared?" You are snickering and he bites your shoulder. "Quiet you!" He is grinning too.

You abruptly realize that you have a barechested Dr. Delicious between your legs and you are not wearing much yourself. Your skin is pressed to his, his flat stomach on your pelvis and he is supporting himself above you on his elbows. The awareness hits him at the same moment, and his pupils dilate in front of your eyes. "Wren..." He is rasping and suddenly jumps off you. "Right, I'm going." "No, John, I'm serious, I will go to my room and get them. The quality will be much better than anywhere else. And the choice," he cocks a brow at you. You climb off the bed and sway a bit. "Wow, I'm fine, I'm fine, it's just that was…" "Yeah?" Can he look any more smug?

You pull on the top and stagger back to the first room. You push your feet into your shoes and turn around. He is standing in the middle of the room, fuck, he is delectable. "Right, I'll be right back. Hold the thought." He gives you a feral grin. "Wouldn't dream of forgetting it." You really need to hurry up before you combust.

**XXX**

You practically run into the room. "Thea, I need the Fun Bag!" Thea is sitting on her bed, in her glasses, reading a book. Is it an alternative universe? She stares at you. "The Fun Bag, Thea! I need it, now!"

The Fun Bag is a red silk Chinese drawstring pouch where Thea keeps her supplies. She never travels without it. The content of it is meticulously picked, regularly refreshed and covers all possible needs and circumstances. Some of the objects in it you are not familiar with.

Thea gives you a lookover. "Fuck me, Wren, you are on fire! So the date is going well?" "Yep," the giggle burst out of you. She jumps off the bed and starts digging through her suitcase. But then she stops and gives you an attentive look. "Wren, are you being safe?"

You are trying to rule your curls in front of the mirror. You are so worked up that the hair is static and stands around your head like an orange halo. Something in her tone makes you stop and look at her. "That's why I'm here." But then you see her eyes and remember that day when you found her crying in her bed. "Oh, Thea…" You give it a thought and with full clarity and certainty you answer, "Yes, I'm being safe." "Are you sure?" She is asking about so much more right now. You smile. "Yes, I am absolutely sure."

She smiles back and gives you the pouch. "Go, Wren, rock his world."

**XXX**

Your return trip is short but you manage to plummet in a state of complete panic in those seven minutes that it takes you to get back to the penthouse. You are going to embarrass yourself. You are going to look inexperienced and clumsy. Something will go wrong and he will regret even inviting you into his room.

You have slept with a fair amount of men, but they were nothing but boys. You have an almost fifty year old male, skilful and experienced, waiting for you behind those door. Your hands start shaking.

Then you experience a backlash. You had a fair amount of one-night stands, a few semi-permanent relationships and dated Phil Durinson, for fuck sake, for two weeks. You know pretty much everything that there is to know about traditional sex. You didn't go into much kinkier stuff but nonetheless… You are going to look like a slut. Fuck, you are so jittery that you need to stop in the middle of a hall and breath. You press your palms to your eyes and slowly count to ten.

Focus, Wren. Think about it. You are not going there to have sex. You are going to the room of the man you are in love with. You are going there to be together, to kiss, to talk, to do what you feel like at any given moment. If this is going to work, you two just need to appreciate and accept each other, all of it, the good, the bad, and the ugly, and try to be open with each other. It's not about prowess and skill. You can finally look, touch, taste, like you dreamt for so long. You just need to go in and relish him and revel in the closeness to him.

You exhale, lift your chin and knock.


	7. Chapter 7

You knock at his door and hold your breath. Alright, Wren, we talked about it. Your main problem is that you overcomplicate things in your head. You are just going to go inside and play it by ear. He opens the door and smiles to you.

Point A. He is dressed again. In a very nice button-up shirt. Light blue, brings out his eyes. Alright, that doesn't mean anything. You've been away, maybe he got cold. Seriously, Wren? Alright, maybe he didn't feel comfortable opening the door half naked. Was worried that someone will see him. There is only one more room on this floor and their door is around the corner. Damn it, reasonable side of Wren, don't fret.

Second thing, oh wait, B. So, B, he is very calm. Just look at him. He steps aside and lets you in. You walk in with a straight spine and a silk red pouch of condoms and sex toys in your hand. Great. He is almost serene, no frenzy, no grabbing and shagging you into the wall. The last few times you would happen to be in similar circumstances he seemed almost mental, like it was really hard for him to control himself. Hm, hard… Really, Wren, puns, now?

You give him a sideways glance. That's an interesting smile. You've never seen it before. A small, half hidden, just slightly curling up the corners of the lips. Like a cat. A big bloody cat that got the cream. That's you by the way. Thank you, reasonable Wren, I gathered. Damn my jitters!

He walks into the living room. He is barefoot. "I ordered tea, would you like some?" What now? He gestures on the table. He is not taking a piss. There is a large tea tray there. Whole package. Cups, saucers, oh the bloody saucers, scones, butter, jams and a three tier cake stand. Seriously?

He is still smiling. "Since you don't drink. And, honestly, champagne is a bit of a cliche, don't you find? I could never understand for the life of me why unpleasantly carbonated wine and strawberries, which are not the best of fruit, let us be honest, are considered worthy of a romantic encounter."

You instantaneously feel so much better. Because he is rambling. He is right in front of you, he looks calm and collected, but he is fucking nervous as hell. Would you look at that! Ha! You demurely place your bag of goodies on a chair and sit at the table. "Shall I be mother?" "Yes, please." You pour two cups of tea and pick up a macaroon. Should you stretch the pleasure and torture him a bit? He is already staring at your mouth, a bit of slow biting and licking the filling, and he is toast. But then again he is already breathing rather shallow. Let's hope he has a healthy heart.

"Excuse me," he quickly disappear in the bathroom, and you hear water running. Is he pouring cold water on his head? You feel just marvelous! Why were you even nervous? It's going great. You eat the macaroon with gusto and scan the cakes. You are not hungry, after all the pub grub, but they look really nice.

He comes out of the bathroom and the hair on his temples is actually wet. Splashing cold water on our burning cheeks, are we?

He takes a few strides and stops very, very close to you. Your jitters are back with vengeance. He is just so huge, towering above you, and his eyes are very dark. "Have you finished your tea, Wren?" His voice is very polite. "Yes, thank you".

He picks you up under your knees and arms, and then tosses you over his shoulder. You squeal. You bum is sticking up and he bites the buttock closest to him. You are roaring with laughter. "Bedtime, Miss Leary."

**XXX**

He puts you down on the bed, surprisingly gently, and you sit on your knees. He apparently picked up the Fun Bag when carrying you, and he drops it on the bed near you and kneels in front of you. You are smiling and his eyes are roaming you. Then he cups your face, and you wrap your arms around his neck. The kisses are unhurried, soft, affectionate. He pushes his fingers in your hair. He lowers his lips to your ear and whispers, "I've been wanting to do it for so long… " He treads his fingers through it, pulls them out and watches the strands running between them. "Likewise." You kiss his jaw and pull the end of the string tying his ponytail. Oh, it is even better than you imagined! It is soft, heavy, smooth. You are shivering and scratch the back of his head gently with your nails. His breathing hitches.

He pulls you closer, and you wrap your legs around him. The Through dies in your mind with a hiss. The reality is so much sweeter. He is definitely massively uncomfortable right now. No way the denim isn't choking him. You grind your pelvis into him, and he groans. "Slow down, kiddo," he is smirking. Arrogant git. You lean in and lick around the outer shell of his ear. His whole body jerks. You move closer and make sure that he can feel your lips moving and your breathing tickles him, "Don't call me that."

"Wren, I have about five seconds of self-control left in me. If you don't want to be rudely fucked with most you clothes still on, slow down." Your eyes are probably twice the normal size. He is staring directly in your eyes, blue irises burning, and licks his lips. Fuck me.

"I'm planning for both of us to enjoy this," he speaks slowly, articulating deliberately, as if warning you. "But you have to keep your deft little hands mostly to yourself." You are shaking. Then he catches your mouth greedily and pushes his hand under your bum. You are so dizzy from his lips on yours so you don't immediately understand what he is doing. He slightly picks you up and stretches you on the bed. And then covers you with his hot heavy body.

His lips slide down your jaw, your throat, the clavicles, and he licks the hollow between the collarbones. You are moaning and press your hand to your forehead. He lifts his face and smiles to you. That is a hell of a scary smile. You feel like a macaroon before a hungry toddler. Yep, you are screwed.

But then you rethink it. No, you are not a toy, not a treat he decided to indulge in, not a quivering maiden he is going to ravish. You sit up and breathe out. He jumps up too.

"Before we do this, I want to make one thing clear." He is staring in your eyes. You poke his chest with your index finger. "We are equal in this. Together, do you understand me? Right here, right now, there is absolutely no difference between us. Either we do it this way, or it is just not worth it." His eyes widen, and he is taking slow deep breaths. He covers your hand and presses your palm into his chest. You feel him shaking. His lips are slightly open, and then he smiles openly, sunnily and nods. "Agreed."

You grab the bottom of your top and jerk it off. He is still looking into your eyes. Then you quickly unbutton his shirt and push it down his shoulders. He sheds it off and closes his palms over your back. The clasp snaps, and the bra is gone. He still holds you gaze. You lower your hands and grab the buckle of his belt. It clanks and he jerks.

You push him on the bed and straddle his legs. His large hands are on your breasts now, gently stroking, thumbs caressing painfully stiff nipples. You unbutton the jeans and pull them off, on the way hooking your fingers over the waist of his pants. You are all about efficiency today. His cock jumps out of the restraints, and you painfully bite your bottom lip. Right, you have seen it before, but apparently your memory was lacking. He is not lacking for sure.

He pushes you down now and presses his lips to your stomach. The jeans are gone in a second, and he chuckles. You peek at him, he is tracing something on your knickers with a tip of his finger. "Could you please hurry up?" You are really trying not to be rude here but you are sort of in a hurry. He chuckles again and presses an open mouth kiss on your clit through the underwear. Your hips fly up. He pulls the knickers off and immediately his mouth is on your folds. You cry out.

He swirls his tongue in a tight circle, and you are screaming. He lifts his eyes at you and that is the single hottest thing you have seen in your fucking life. Dr. John Crispin Thorington, flushed cheeks, eyes almost black, between your thighs, lips on your clit, ebony hair on his shoulders and your hipbones. "I want you inside… please…" You stretch your hands to him and he moves up your body.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I have a super annoying cold, so yesterday I used it as an excuse to shove my thesis in a drawer and to indulge in binge writing :) At the end, I literally fell asleep in the middle of writing yesterday's piece for "A Word A Day" my face down on keyboard, happy and snoring. That was fun! I'll post it later today. This chapter practically wrote itself this morning! I'm a depraved, depraved person :) **

He is kissing up your stomach, greedy open mouth kisses, up to your ribs, your breasts, and you are blindly grasping for Thea's bag. Where the fuck is it?! He is kissing and growling, "Wren… Wren… Wrennie… Oh fuck… Wrennie..." Does he even realize that he is talking?! You finally feel the silk of the pouch under your fingers and jerk it. Colourful packages and boxes scatter around the bed and some fly to the floor. He pushes some of them away, and he is finally above you. He is supporting himself on one elbow, the other hand doing some magnificent thing with your breast, and you bite into his bottom lip. Then you slide your mouth and bite his bearded jaw. "Kzbdvf..." Oh yes! You reduced him to gibberish.

You encircle his waist with your legs, and he groans. The scorching cock is pressed in your stomach, and you feel mildly terrified. How will this fit exactly? The answer is snugly and orgasmically, Wren, and hell, nothing in this world will stop you from doing it now! You grab a random package. He is sucking on your neck, and it is really hard to concentrate enough to read the bloody tiny letters. A teardrop bullet? What a…?! You throw it away and grab the next one. Definitely too small! He lifts his upper torso above you and continuing to nibble on your jaw he is also rummaging through the riffraff. He finally finds one with ominous XXXL on it, and you think you are going to kill Thea later. Mr Big and Pink, my ass!

You grab the package from his hands and quickly open it. Then you grab the base of his cock, and he growls a long and intricate swearing. Wow, you would never guess these words can come out of his overly posh mouth! Your roll the condom out, and he catches your mouth. "John," you twist your face and try to halt him. He is lowering himself on you and you press your hands in his shoulders. Wait, wait, wait! He realizes that you are trying to stop him and a shudder runs through him. "Wrennie, please..." You catch his eyes, and they are mad. "I need to be on top…" You are stroking his cheek, "You need to let me… Please?"

He blinks and for a second his eyes are less berserk. He rolls off you on his back, and you climb on him. He hikes his brows up. His jaws are clenched, he is obviously holding to the last shreds of self control. You take him into your hand and slowly lower yourself on him. He raspily cries out and grabs handfuls of sheets. He is not fully in but you feel there is no room left whatsoever. Oh fuck! You bite your lip and take a deep breath. He opens his eyes, and they are shining and suddenly tender. Whatever desperate urgency was there, he seem to have managed to reign it for now. He gently places his palms on the sides of your pelvis and strokes the hipbones with his thumbs.

You exhale and lower yourself more. His tip presses in your cervix, and you moan. Then you slightly shift your hips, to settle better and get used to the size. He hisses but keeps on smiling. Then he suddenly sits up and his arms wrap around your back. He is tenderly kissing you, and you bury your hands in his hair. His eyes are laughing, "Good call, kiddo." You lift your brow. "I'm saving my life here, you twonk, you could have killed me." He guffaws. This is already the best sex in your life, and neither of you has even moved yet!

He is kissing your neck and you experimentally move your hips. He painfully nips your skin. "God, Wrennie..." You move more, and the ring of his arms on your back tightens. Then he grabs your calf and moves your leg behind him. You move the second one. You both start moving, long, slow, rocking movements.

You are moaning, and he is mumbling in your neck. "Fuck, Wren, I won't last..." You don't understand anything anymore, the feeling of fullness and fire raging in you, flooding all your senses, roaring in your ears, your hands on his shoulders. You drop your head back and arch your back. He is whispering in your ear, "Wrennie… My Wrennie..."

You come. The orgasm is slow and terrifying, like falling, or dying, or diving in a hot tub. An avalanche of pleasure, spreading through your body, like a forest fire, and you are sobbing in his arms, clawing on his upper arms, and he is murmuring, stroking your hair, kissing your temple. You are still, and then he shatters, apparently all this time holding it back, and he raspily groans, and crushes you into him. Your ribs are all but cracking, and you are taking gaspy short breaths.

**XXX**

"Did I talk?" That's the first thing he says, you are still intertwined, hugging each other tight, your legs crossed behind his back, his arms wrapped around you. He is rubbing your shoulder blade with his thumb. "Sounded more like mumbling..." He chuckles. Feels funny with his cock still in you. "I was told I talk… Haven't done it in years..." He presses his lips to your temple.

"Is it some sort of a storm gauge?" He chuckles again. "Apparently." He tries to move away. "No, I'm too comfortable here," you whine and nuzzle his chest. The coarse thick hair tickles your nose. "Common, kiddo, let's make you even more comfortable." He picks you up under your arms, and you realize that all your limbs feel floppy. He pulls out, and you moan. He puts you on the bed, gently kissing and then pulls the covers off the other side. You feel sleepy, the eyes are closing. "Wren," you look at him. He is smiling. You crawl under the comforter he is holding up, and he pulls the covers off the bed completely, shaking Thea's treasures on the floor with it. He leans in and kisses your cheek. "I'll go clean up," you hum, and then it's dark.

**XXX**

You jerk out of sleep. No, no, no, not now! You are always the sleepy one after sex, but please, not with him. You hear water running and breath out in relief, it's only been a few seconds. He walks out of the bathroom and slides under the comforter with you. His head is on the pillow, eyes on your level and you smile. He leans in for a gentle kiss. You stroke his face with your hand, scratch the beard a bit, and you hear a low rumble in his chest. Seriously, like a cat! You scratch some more and he half closes his eyes. You slide your thumb on his bottom lip. He predictably catches it with his mouth. The cerulean eyes fly open again and he sucks on the digit. And there you wanted to do some ogling and touching… Is that what you think it is, pressing into your thigh? Yep, it is. Well, hello, that was quick. Bloody roly-poly! He lifts a brow in a silent question. You press your body forward and wrap your leg around him in an equivocal answer. And back to square one!


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: There is a Doctor Who quote hidden here. Don't judge me :)**

"So, which fruit is the best then?" You are sprawled on him, your arms and legs drooping on the sides of his body, in an uncanny resemblance to a starfish. He is still breathing heavily, the last round leaving you both completely exhausted. Well, considering it is round number four, you are bloody surprised you can still breath at all.

He barks a chuckle. "'Pardon?" "You said that strawberry isn't the best of fruit after all. Which one is then?" You feel his chest and stomach under you starting to shake with laughter. He places his large hot palm on the back of your head, "Pineapple. The best of fruit is pineapple." You both are laughing, and you think you've never felt happier in your life.

You try to get up but he presses another hand on your shoulder blades. "Stay for a bit longer". Well, that's like a fucking bucket of cold water on your head. What was the other option, "thank you, Miss Leary, for the quadruple shag and here is the bloody door"? You tense and take a long breath. "If your don't mind tolerating it inside of you for a bit more," he is smiling, "We can go to the shower together in a moment."

Oh, bollocks, here as in on top of him. Phew. Damn, why is it like a minefield with him? Now that you are not shagging like bunnies you feel like you are going to do something idiotic and embarrass yourself. Why wasn't it like that with Phil? Fuck it, Wren, you just had to go there. It wasn't like that with Phil because this time you are supposedly enjoying post-coital bliss with a man pretty much twice your age, and the bloody baggage you both have…

You nuzzle him and lift your eyes. He is smiling at you. Alright, Wren, we can do it. You sit up managing to keep him inside of you and he sucks in air. You tilt your head and give him a look over. My oh my, let's face it, that's the best thing you've seen on your pillow! Well, his pillow, but hot damn! You tread your fingers in the chest hair and claw him a bit. He guffaws.

"Enjoying the view, Miss Leary?" Oh, that's a much better way to pronounce your name than before. All purry and suggestive. "I didn't get much chance to previously. First I was a bit preoccupied and then I was mostly staring at the ceiling and the headboard." He snorts and shakes his head. "You are massively inappropriate." "You are only getting it now?"

**XXX**

In the shower he lathers some soap and attends to every fucking millimeter of your skin. In a few minutes you are panting, and the two of you end up taking a pause from washing. He is pumping his fingers into you, supporting you with his other hand. You cry out and sag along the shower wall. He is kissing you, murmuring into your lips.

The shower stretches for a couple hours, and you can cross out three more of your fantasies involving him out of the list. Yes, of course you have the bloody List. A blowjob with him standing, "fire hydrant' and washing his hair. Surprisingly the last one is the most satisfying. After taking a good piss out of his fancy organic shampoo, which leads to a juicy smack on your bum and crossing out the second out of the mentioned above items from the "Wren's most frequent fantasies involving a shower and Dr. Sexy" list, you finally get to experience the orgasmic, word of the day it seems, luxurious mane of Dr. John Thorington. He is kneeling in front of you, how else would you reach? And the ebony and silver is running through your fingers. You are gently detangling it and he is placing soft kisses on whatever part of you he can reach. Since his eyes are closed, the results are switching between steamy and ridiculous. You wash off the luscious foam of his hair and he lifts his face to you, his eyes still closed. And at that moment you realize that if you don't do something drastic to stop yourself, you will say the Words.

You jolt away and slip on the soap on the floor. His eyes fly open from your yelp, and he catches you and presses to himself. "Alright?" "Yes, yes, I'm totally fine," you are hyperventilating, "totally, better than ever, just sort of… I don't know… Slipped?" He is looking at you slightly puzzled. Alright, better if he thinks you are a barmpot that you saying that you… No, no, no, retreat, retreat!

You shove the shampoo the bottle into his hands. "Care to return the favour?" "God, yes."

**XXX**

You make love twice in the morning again. Sex, you are having sex, Wren. Bloody hell, what is wrong with you? Sober up. Nothing works. You end up biting your lip, pillow and eventually your finger not to say it. The goddamn words are bursting out of you. When he sucks in your nipple, when his fingers slide into you, when he is thrusting into you or kissing your buttocks. Alright, the fault for the morning activities is totally on you, you weren't even fully awake yet and already your fingers were around his cock. Then when he places you on top of him and you sink on him, you go as far as to start moaning "Oh, John, I..." but manage to suppress the treacherous Forbidden Sentence.

After he comes back from the washroom after discarding yet another of Thea's gifts from the goodie bag, you scurry from the bed and pass him. "Do you mind if I take the shower on my own this time? I just don't think I will have anything done if… you know..." He smirks and stretches on the bed. "It's all yours." You are darting into the washroom and hear behind you. "Don't enjoy it too much. I might get jealous and decide you should share." Oh my…

**XXX**

You are pressing your forehead to the tile wall and try to reign your nerves. Alright, Wren, it is as simple as this. There is absolutely no reason to panic. You are obviously in love with him. We knew it long time ago. And we also know that as special as it seems to be, he is not there yet. Maybe he can never even get there. But at this stage the last thing you need to do is to jump at him with proclamations of… your feelings and frighten him. Because he will run. Or kick you out. Or become his old self and do something horrible to make you leave on your own.

You step out of the shower and look in the mirror. You look radiant, rosy cheeks, shining eye, given there is purple lovebite on your collar bone, all together you look better than ever. And you will do anything and everything to preserve this in your life. Kill, wound or maim included. And no one will take it away. Even Dr. Dark and Sexy himself.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: This is the last chapter of "Wren and John in a love bubble" sort. There will finally be some plot development in the next one when they have to get out of his room and face the world :)**

You wrap your hair in a towel and yell through the door, "I need a floss. Do you mind if I rummage through your things?" "Sure, and the breakfast is here by the way." Hm, that's nice, courteously ordering breakfast, are we? You are actually starving.

That is a beauty case. Seriously, it's all black and manly but it is a bloody beauty case. You giggle and open it. The amount of bottles and tubes is bordering ridiculous, but it is not quite there. Alright, aftershave, matching the fragrance, hand cream, makes sense, skin stuff, again all manly and matching, alright, hm, what's that?

The understanding dawns, and you feel dizzy. _Sensitive Eyes Daily Cleaner_. Oh my fucking God, he wears contact lenses! That explains it. When you came back from your room last night, something seemed different about his eyes. More vulnerable, more open… He is fucking short-sighted. Which can mean only one thing. Either everything is blurry for him right now, or…

You tumble out of the bathroom and... Oh. My. God! You freeze before the most magical spectacle in your life. Dr. John Crispin Thorington is sitting at the table, in the hotel bathrobe, reading newspaper. With a pair of brain specs on his nose.

He lifts his eyes at you and smiles. You are a statue. "I ordered coffee too. Didn't know what you drink in the morning." You can't move a muscle. "Wren?" You stalk towards him and climb on his lap. You are straddling him and pull the towel off your head. "Wren?" You attack him with a bruising kiss and he drops the newspaper. His hands wrap around you and you grind your pelvis into him. He moans and pulls you closer. You are pulling the belt of your own robe, your second hand decisively shoved into his. He groans and lifts his hand to take the glasses off. "Don't," you are growling menacingly. He hikes up his brows and chuckles. "Oh, I see how it is..." His smile is very, very smug. "Shut up and shag me." "With pleasure," that's a hell of a feral smirk you get in return.

**XXX**

You come back to reality staring at the ceiling. Damn, the rug burns are going to be brutal. "Now you need another shower…" His tone is lazy, he is drawing circles with the tips of his fingers on your hip. "Breakfast first."

You get up, both groaning, muscles and joints protesting from yesterday's activities, especially in the shower, and today's, especially this rough tumble on the hard floor. He picks up the glasses from the floor. When did they fall off? He looks at them. "Is it safe to put them on again?" His eyes are laughing. "Definitely. There is no energy left in me for anything." He puts them on. Bugger. "Maybe you should still stay away from them for a while."

**XXX**

You are finally having breakfast, and you are rubbing your foot up and down his leg. He is smirking into his cup. ""Do you have any meeting in the Riverdell today?" Yuck, reality. "I have a luncheon with the interns and then an actual meeting with Elwig at three." "I am his three forty five. So you know and don't think that I'm stalking you." "Haha," you deadpan, "Oh, right, there is the Riverdell High Tea thing. What's that all about?" He snorts. "It's a Riverdell tradition," he makes an irritated face, "Elwig introduced it when he took over the throne, so to speak. They treat their guests to traditional high tea with scones and mince pies. I'm invited as well."

Minefield alert, minefield alert! You quickly lift your cup to your lips. He is putting butter on his toast. Meticulously, in perfect precise movements of a knife. You are momentarily distracted by the sexiness of his fingers wielding any sort of blade, but then shake yourself back to reality. Should you maybe just ask? Something like so, John, how are we playing it? Are we pretending to be just colleagues and politely sip our tea as if we didn't just scream in rapture right over there on the carpet? He bites into his toast and looks at you blissfully unaware of the battle going on in your head.

He chews and asks, "Are you panicking inside about how we should behave around each other in public now?" Bugger, maybe not that unaware. "Yes?" Oh, that's bloody embarrassing. "I'll go with whatever you choose. You mannerly calling me Dr. Thorington after what we spent hours doing in here, there and there," he points with his long finger, and you blush furiously, "might actually be very sexy." He goes back to eating his toast. Tosser.

What are you suppose to do then? Pretend nothing happened? Introduce him as your boyfriend and hold hands? That is the most ridiculous picture you have ever had in your head. Oh… So many things are so wrong with you two being together and going public, and only one thing is right. That thing is how it actually feels when it is just the two of you. You drop your head on the table and bang it slightly. He is chewing his toast and looks at you with pity.

"See, Wren, I do not have any reputation to lose. Telling the world that I am sleeping with a woman who is significantly younger than me and happens to be a researcher in a project that I lead won't do much damage to people's existing perception of me as a bounder and lecher. You on the other hand..." He is giving you a pointed look. "So I can understand if you feel apprehensive to disclose it to the half of medical community over scones."

Right… You straighten up in your chair and look him directly in the eyes. You have known him for a while and also had sex with him for the last ten hours, does he really think you haven't learnt any of his tells? This small tense smile in the corners of his lips, the distant eyes, immobile shoulders... "If this is your elaborate way of manipulating me into yelling that I am not ashamed of our liaison and want to tell the whole wide world about it, then it's not working." You pick up your cup and a toast and now it's your turn to chew nonchalantly. He gives you a strange look. "Because I am not ashamed of it, but also can't say that I feel comfortable parading it in front of others. For various reasons."

He shifts in his chair uncomfortably. "Which are?.." Is that a tinge of insecurity you denote? "The ones you already mentioned, but also whatever you say, won't you feel trapped if our relationships become public knowledge?" "No." Wow, that is an unexpectedly assured answer. "I really do not care of what public thinks about my relationships, and these relationships in particular," he slowly get up and comes up to you. He kneels in front of you, and you tingle from head to toe. "Maybe I want every tosser at that high tea to know that you will be spending all your nights in my bed," his eyes are dark, "or on any other flat surface in my room for that matter."

That is not a declaration of feelings per se, more of a property claim, but you'll take it for now. You wrap your arms around his neck and smile to him. "I will make sure to make it abundantly clear to any tosser going by."


	11. Chapter 11

You are trying to sneak back into your room like a bloody teenager after the iconic walk of shame. You quietly open the door and brace yourself for Thea's assault. It doesn't follow. You sigh in relief. She is probably receiving another massage from Tom. Or giving one to him. You tread in and fall on the bed.

You body feels funny. Tired, wobbly and as if thinned out. Every joint seems to complain. You slept for three hours, and now it feels like your brain rebels. You shed your clothes and set your alarm. You really need to sleep.

**XXX**

The first dream is familiar. It is a dream of waking up in his arms. This time though it is not painfully embarrassing and doesn't feel like an impending apocalypse like always before. It actually feels like it felt just a few hours ago. His skin is warm, and he is nuzzling you behind your ear. Elwig was right, does he ever sleep? You catch his lips, and he sighs contently.

The second dream is a weird concoction of some ballroom dances, Cinderella-ish running down some glamourous stairs and dancing in his arms. It is probably the anxiety before the High Tea Party, but your mind keeps on pushing the Disney imagery onto you. They will definitely find out that you are not a princess and then you will have to turn into a pumpkin. Or kiss a frog.

The blaring alarm jolts you out of the sleep. You drag your sorry arse into the shower. Your mind didn't get any clearer but at least you will look a bit fresher. If you are lucky.

**XXX**

You walk out of the shower and find Thea inspecting her stripy top you carefully folded and put on her bed. "Well, hello!" Oh no, that is Thea's judging tone. "Did I stain it?" "No, Wren, it is in perfect condition, and that is alarming. Was there any tearing off clothes involved or not?" You texted Thea after round one to let her know you are not returning to the room. The answer was "You better not", typical Thea.

"Yes, a bit, but I tried to be careful with your favourite top, Thea." "Uh-huh," he looks at you skeptically. "Wren, I am worried about you. You don't look elated and triumphant. You are frowning and wriggle your hands." You actually do and make yourself stop. "Oh my God, he wasn't any good! Oh, Wren were we wrong about him this whole time, right?" She looks so sympathetic! Bloody hell, she looked less sympathetic when your proposal for that Richardson grant was rejected.

And that is actually a very good opportunity to weasel your way out of telling her everything in excruciating details. You can say you don't want to talk about it, you just have to plaster a disappointed grimace on your face. You open your mouth but her eyes are on the lovebite on your collar bone. Shite.

"How many, Wren?" Bollocks. "How many of what, Thea?" "Times, Wren, how many times did you shag Dr. Dark and Sexy?" Lie, lie, run for your life! Whom are you kidding, she'll know. You lower your head. "Eight. Well, nine but that time in the shower it was just for me..." She squeals in delight. "Give me the numbers, Wren." "I don't know, Thea..." "Wren," her tone is menacing, "numbers!" You defiantly lift your chin. "I'm not evaluating him, Thea. It's special." "Of course it is, Wren," she is murmuring now, and it is even scarier. "How special?"

You sit on your bed and decorously cross your legs. Big mistake. The robe slips and your thigh is naked. Bollocks, the teeth marks. You pull the flap to cover up again. Thea is smirking. "Thea, I'm not discussing the sex. It was good, very good. May be the best I've ever had. And that's all you are getting." She hums and sits near you. "If it was so good, why aren't you singing about it on every corner?" "There are some issue..." "Oh," she looks sympathetic again, "he is close to fifty after all…" "God, not performance issues, Thea, emotional stuff."

"Let's do it this way, Wren. You will give me numbers, and then you can whine about emotional stuff." "No, Thea, I am really not in the mood, and I need to get ready for my luncheon with the interns, and then the meeting with Elwig, and… I love him."

The silence rings in the room, and Thea is staring at your with enormous eyes. "Wren.." You cover your face with your hands. "I don't know why I said it. I was so fucking tired of keeping it inside this whole time with him, so I just..." She hugs your shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Wrennie." You laugh but it sounds suspiciously like a sob. "I am not dying, Thea, it isn't a tragedy. It still might be fine, may be he loves me too… A bit at least..." You bury your face into her neck. She is stroking your hair.

"Even if he miraculously loves you more than you love him, it's still a tragedy, Wren. It never ends well." "It might!" You jerk your head up and look at her. "We can be happy, and love each other, and understand, and care..." "And get married, Wren?" You gasp. "Isn't it what you were thinking just right now? Because with all your smartness and independence, you are a marrying type, Wren. And that is what you want. And babies, Wren, you want children." "Bullshit, Thea, I'm too young..." "You love babies, Wren. And you want his babies. Tell me you haven't though of a dark haired, blue-eyed toddler running around and screaming "Dada!" to him and hugging your neck!"

You weren't, honestly. But you dreamt about it. Repeatedly. You feel tears running down your face. "How many children do you want with Dr. John Thorington, Wren?" Thea's tone is cold. You know what she is doing. She is performing an emotional surgery, cuts off the infected flesh, and it hurts. It hurts so fucking much. But you are grateful. How many times, if it hadn't been for her, you would allow yourself fantasies and illusions and wallow in self pity? "Four, I want to have four of his children. Three boys and a girl." "Then pull yourself together and fight!"

You smile though your tears. She smiles back. "No feeling sorry for yourself, no sad arse drooping mouth, suck it up, Wren!" You straighten your shoulders. "As mental as I think it is, you chose your man, Wren. Now pick up your glorious arse and get him!" You nod and hug her. "Thank you, Thea." "You are welcome, Wren. Now give me the bloody numbers!" You guffaw.

"Ten, ten, ten, nine and a half, and ten." "No! No one is that perfect." "He is, Thea. He is majestic. And his cock has a curve." "No!" "Yes," you tilt your head. "Like that." Thea is clapping her hands in delight. "And the non-penetration skills also get a ten?" "Thea, I would give him an eleven if it was on the scale." "Alright, but how come the cock got a nine and a half?" You lean closer and whisper, "It is too big. I'm so sore, I am dying here." "Wren," she is full of righteous indignation, "there is no such thing as too big." "You would think, Thea, but I'm telling you, it is so glorious that it is too much." She is considering it. "Alright, Wren, not to make you uncomfortable but I just have to know, is it better than his nephew's?" You snort. "Are you kidding me, Thea? Now that I have acquainted myself with... Mr. Big and Glorious," Thea roars with laughter, "everyone else loses at least five points in comparison."


	12. Chapter 12

You are having luncheon with the interns, meaning the five postgrads you met before, Lan and two more blokes finishing their degrees at uni. It is all light and fun. They give you their half arse "come, stay with us" spiel, and you pretend to be impressed, and then you can actually enjoy tacos and chat. Until the topic of relationships rises.

Alice, the girl who told Lan that you have something going on with Dr. Sexy, is looking at you askew, and you squirm on your chair. Lan helps you escape the unpleasant conversation, bombarding others with the newest gossips from the cooler area. Your undetermined romantic status forgotten, everyone loudly discusses some bloke chatting up some bird, neither of them familiar to you.

After the luncheon you pull him aside. "Thank you for covering my arse, just there." He chuckles. "Welcome, my friend, but it comes with a price." You are smiling, "Oh really? And what is it?" "Favour for a favour, Wren. You need to introduce me to Killian Durinson. I've seen you all chummy with the Durinson brothers at the last year Christmas party at uni, and I am begging you..." He stops and looks at your face. You are probably greenish.

"Wren?" "I am not friends with them any more, a lot happened, and then..." "Oh wait, is that what you meant when you said one shouldn't date their friends?.." You nod, suppressing nausea. "And there I thought you are a smart girl, Wren! In what universe is Phil Durinson ever a good idea?" A neurotic giggle erupts out of you. "And Killian too. But now that you mentioned it, it all makes so much sense with him..." Lan gives you a pensive look. "And now you are shagging their uncle." Well, there isn't much point to deny it. In a few hours at the Tea Thing you might be announcing it to all the Riverdell.

**XXX**

The meeting with Elwig goes well, you wrap up the project discussion, set up the email exchange in a week and sign couple more papers. You are constantly peeking at the grandfather's clock by the wall. You really don't need to stay here till three forty five… "Are you in a hurry, Wren?" He is smiling. "Oh, I'm sorry, just admiring the clock. Comtoise?" "Indeed," he is very pleased and goes into a long description of how he acquired such precious piece of antiques. The cursed piece's minute hand is passing number eight. Bugger, bugger, bugger, let me out!

"Well, I have to thank you again for your visit to the Riverdell Institute and express our hope to see you soon again, Miss Leary," he shakes your hand and gives you his usual little bow. You are backtracking to the door and slam into John's wide chest. Bollocks.

The chest you recognise immediately. You have woken up this morning in exactly this position, except his massive erection was pressing into your buttocks. And last night you were stretched on his bed, and he was pressing you into the sheets… Stop, stop, not thinking about it! Not a single bloody thought about his hips pounding into you! Fuck…

You turn around and smile. It is probably a very shaky smile. He lifts one corner of his delectable lips. He doesn't say anything, and you guess it's up to you now. Where are you going to go now? Is it "John" or "Dr. Thorington"? You feel tempted to go with "sugarplum" and enjoy the shock on his face. Although, knowing him he might call you "sweetheart" and smooch you in front of Elwig.

"Oh, hello," that's croaking, Wren, you just croaked. "Morning." Bloody hell, does he have to enjoy this so much? "We are done here, so I'm leaving Dr. Elwig in your talented hands." Yikes. You close your eyes. It is because you still don't have that filter, and you have been thinking about his indeed talented hands. And the magnificents things they can do to you. For example, that one trick when he curls his long index finger sunk deep into you and rubs the… Ahhhh, you need air!

You rush through the door, stride into the nearest washroom and press your back into a wall. You have an hour to figure out how you are going to behave near him in front of other people. At this stage it is obvious if you don't develop some sort of coherent policy, you are going to fucking embarrass yourself in front of everybody. You are flustered, trembling and want to jump him right there. What? No, you don't, you made love three times already today. Fuck it, Wren, had sex! Not made love!

You splash some cold water on you face and stare at your reflection. Cheeks burning, eyes bright, pupils dilated. You can do it, Wren. You won the Riverdell Institute over, you charmed Hugo Elwig, you can behave mature and confident at the Tea Thingie. You just have to make a decision and follow through. The problem is you really don't know what to do.

**XXX**

You are going back to your room and change. A very nice A-line burgundy skirt and a yellow blouse with little boats embroidered on it. Cute ballet shoes and an elegant cardigan. You are putting on your coat when Thea calls to wish you luck. "Will I see you after the party, Wren?" Her tone is suggestive. "I don't know," you are fighting with the clasp on your handbag. "Probably not." "Go get him, tigress." Oh, you are planning to.

**XXX**

The tea party is held in a big hall, large round tables covered with white tablecloths, cups and of course cursed saucers, platters and cake stands. Everything looks amazing, and you compliment it to Elwig, who met you by the entrance. He smiles. "We thought it is good way for all the employees to bond and mingle occasionally. The Institute is so large that not everyone is familiar with all their colleagues."

Everyone just seems to wander around, the seats aren't assigned so people just pick a seat and chat with whoever is near them. You are approached by some of those who heard you presentation, and you are quickly sucked into the whirlpool of introductions and small talk. Soon enough you are sitting at a table, an elderly professor whose lectures you attended first year is pouring you tea, and another of the researchers of the Institute is suggesting to try the tarts. People come and go, balancing the cups in their hands. Lan saunters by and winks to you. The Thrundon pedigree shows, he looks like he was born with the bloody saucer in his hands.

You manage to relax and actually start enjoying it, when you hear John's voice. You sadly think that your radar is now forever calibrated to immediately distinguish his low rumble in a cacophony of voices. You turn and look. He is amiably chatting with a group of older scientists. One of them claps him on the shoulder. John lifts his brow and obviously delivers a joke. Everyone is laughing, and a lady pats his hand covering his elbow. He has a peculiar way of folding his hands on his chest. He doesn't cross them, just supports one elbow with the other hand hand, while the fingers of the first one are enveloped above the other elbow. How much of a fangirl are you if you noticed this habit? You are hopeless, Wren Leary.

He lifts his eyes and meets your gaze. The lips twitch, and you hastily turn away. The hour really wasn't enough. But you think "Dr. Thorington" it is. You are not ready.

"Ogling your man?" Lan slides on a chair in front of you. You breath out in relief. "No, agonizing over our status actually." He sips from his cup. He is such a beautiful creature. The piercing blue eyes, the cupid bow lips, silken blond hair in a ponytail at his back.

"I am going to play Fairy Godmother and will hook you up with Killian Durinson, even if it is the last thing I do," you are smiling to him. "Oh, Wren, you are a treasure!" He hands you a platter with biscuits. "A shortbread?" You have burned a lot of energy this morning, you really need some butter goodness.

You are chewing in friendly silence and he is scanning the hall. "Do you want me to tell you what your man is doing right now?" "No, I am an independent woman, I don't care." He lifts his brow. How can he be single doing that? "Yes, please, Lan, be a sweetie and tell me what not so much my man is doing?" He is laughing but then gets suddenly serious. "He is chatting with Elwig about you." "What? Why?" "They are tense, Elwig is accusing, Thorington is reeling and they both looked at you at least three times already." You are losing the battle with the desire to turn around. "Don't turn, they both are looking at you right now. Wow..." "What?" "Elwig has just hissed something though his teeth. And Dr. John looks as if he is going to punch him." You swirl around and see the two men in a death staring contest. Fuck.


	13. Chapter 13

They are the same height, and their eyes are locked. You hastily put the cup down. "You are not going there, are you?" You look at Lan. "Of course I am." "And will do exactly what?" "They are obviously fighting about me." "It doesn't matter. Thorington isn't your toddler who is throwing sand into other child's face. You can't go there and tell him how to behave." You breath out. Lan is right.

"What is going on there right now?" Lan peeks over your shoulder. "Mrs. White, Elwig's assistant is talking to them both. They are indeed making a scene. I'm pretty sure half of the people noticed." You feel dizzy. "Mrs. White is talking to Thorington… Oh, he is leaving.. Oh fuck, wait, no, not yet..." Lan doesn't have to tell you what is going on. Your radar is ringing in your head.

"Wren," John's tone is enraged and you turn around. He is standing above you, his hand stretched towards you. "We are leaving." You lift your eyes at him. His jaws are clenched, eyebrows drawn together, eyes dark. If you refuse, will he drag you from here by your ponytail previously knocking you out with his club? You look at his open palm. You hear Lan suck in air nearby.

And then you smile and look into his eyes. You have made your choice long ago. You put your hand into his and get up. You mannerly put the napkin from your lap on the table. "Bye, Lan. I'll text you about that boy," you lift your chin and smile to John again. "I'm ready to go."

**XXX**

"That was completely unacceptable of you," you are breathing heavily. "To which of my actions do you refer?" He rolls on his stomach and looks at you. God, he is gorgeous! "You know what I mean." He is smirking. "You seemed to like it, judging by the screams and the biting." He screws his eyes and tries to see his shoulder. There are indeed teeth marks there.

You sit up and pull up the covers to your chest. "What did Elwig say to you?" John drops his head into the pillows. "Can we not talk about it?" His voice is muffled. He peeks. You are giving his a stare. "You are so stubborn." He turns on his side and looks at you. "He said exactly what was to be expected. That I am corrupting you, that I am old enough to be your father, that if you had a father, he would never allow, blah-blah-blah..." He actually says "blah-blah-blah" and in his posh accent. You giggle. He lifts a brow. "Sorry, go on."

"He said that I used my position in the project to seduce you, that you don't know what you are doing, that I'm going to break you and toss aside..." He is getting angry and exhales sharply. "Exactly what I told you people will think if they know you are sleeping with me." He suddenly looks tired.

"If you knew they would say that why did you get so angry?" "Because it still sounds like shite." He rubs his eyes with his palm. "I understand that's what it looks like, but Elwig knows you. Does he really think you would be so stupid to just shag me?"

Wow, your brain is going to explode now and decorate the wall with your grey matter. First, he is defending your honour. Like really, not in a stupid way this expression is used, but actually defending! He is offended that Elwig assumed you are daft and a trollop. Secondly, "just shag me"?! What are you doing then if not "just shagging" him?

"Wren?" You realize you are frozen and staring at the opposite wall. "What? Oh, sorry, just lost in my thoughts for a second here. Where were we?" "Where were you? I was still here in the bed."

You climb on top of him and he chuckles. "John, I'm going to kiss you now. I really need to kiss you now," you are cupping his face. "Sure," he is chuckling, and you kiss his smiling lips. Your head is spinning from the love and the tenderness you feel for him. His hands are stroking your shoulder blades and he is sighing into your lips.

"Wren, I..." Your lips slide on his throat. "Hm?" He shakes his head. "Nothing," he chuckles again and flips you on the bed. You look into his eyes and stroke his cheek. He kisses your palm and then catches your fingers with his mouth. You laugh and wrap your arms around his neck. Bollocks, you can spend a week in his bed.

**XXX**

"Where do you want to have dinner?" You are dozing on his chest. "Room service?" He snorts. "Your wish is my command, my lady." He gently moves you on the pillow and goes into the living room for a menu. Yum, the glorious backside. You snuggle into the pillows. They smell like him, you and sex. That's a hell a lot of sex. Thea's bag is half empty. She was so kind as to donate it to the "Shag Your Ginger Fund", her words obviously.

He flops back on the bed and hands you a menu. He is reading the second one. The only thing he is wearing is the specs. You mouth goes dry. You probably can't move a single extremity but it doesn't mean you can't admire. And plot for future. You still have some unfulfilled items in the List.

You feel bashful and bury your nose into the menu. Then you notice that it doesn't have prices. Seriously, in what century do they live in this hotel?! They still have a woman's menu! You huff and jerk his out of his hands. Then you shove yours towards him. He is giving you the Look. It is supposed to be condescending and patronizing, and it used to terrify you. But after you reduced him to a mumbling quivering mess, gasping for air and repeating your name like a prayer, while you were deepthroating him, he really lost a lot of intimidation power.

He sighs and takes your menu. "Do you mind if I at least pay for the wine? You are not going to drink a lot of it anyways." "Very funny." "What can I say, I am a funny bloke". Your turn to snort. "That is the last word I would use to describe you. Steak sounds good. What do you think?" "Which words would you use then?" Is someone feeling insecure all of a sudden and wants his ego stroked? You give him an appraising look. Wow, you are actually right. This nonchalant look, the tense shoulders, very attentive studying of the menu… Hm… You put yours away and pluck his out of his hands. And straddle him again. What can you say? That is the easiest way to make him focus on you.

You gently scratch his chest. "If I were asked to describe you I would start with gifted, and brilliant, and cantankerous," he lifts a brow and his large palms squeeze your buttocks. "And despotic, and generous, and sexy," you start alternating between talking and kissing his ear and jaw, "and stubborn, and autocratic, and possessive, and tyrannical..." You are nibbling on his earlobe. "It seems to me that there were more negative than positive qualities in this list," he is murmuring. "It seems to me you don't find them that negative since you continue behaving like a chauvinistic brute." He guffaws. "And here I was fishing for compliments. Should have known that with you I will receive chastising instead."

"I did say you were sexy and gifted." "And cantankerous." "Yep," you pop the last sound, "but I don't mind." "You don't?" He is smiling to you tenderly. You shake your head. "And why is that?" "Awww, are we fishing again? Do you want me to swoon and to say that it is worth it?" He sits up abruptly and presses you into him. "Yes, I want you to say that it is worth it," his voice is suddenly serious and low. You cup his face, "You are worth it." He presses his lips to yours ferociously and grabs handfuls of your hair. The low rumble reverberates through his chest. He is worth it.


	14. Chapter 14

The next morning John is giving you and Thea a lift back to uni. He claims that he needs to drop by the lab, but you really don't believe him. Thea saunters down the stairs, a trail of sad sighs behind her. Yep, the staff is going to miss her. You think that Tom, the masseur might even shed a few tears. You are sleepy and disheveled, well, more than usual. The bastard really doesn't sleep.

Thea falls asleep right away, even her glorious tall body can be comfortable in this ocean liner. You are nodding in and out of pleasant dozing, Nino Katamadze at the background, and his cologne caressing your nose. You drift away with a cowardly thought, how are going you going to sleep tonight without his hot body pressed into yours?

**XXX**

The dream is weird. It is an exam room in a hospital but you know you are there to take a test in Enzymology. You are nervous, you forgot about the test. The door opens and Phil comes in. The dream shifts, and you are yelling at each other. "You could have told me! You are such a bitch, Wren!" He is livid, and you think he is going to hit you. You feel relieved, it's better this way. You are screaming back, tears bursting from your eyes, "I tried. I really tried with you! Forgive me!" You are fiercely kissing, it is his flat, the familiar upholstery of the sofa rubs at your naked back and buttocks.

**XXX**

You wake up gasping for air, your heart beating wildly in your chest. Fuck, you really need to sleep more. "You do know that you talk in your sleep?" John's tone is hushed, even. You turn to him in panic. He is calm, hands on the wheel. You realize he is keeping his voice down because of Thea. "What did I say?" Your throat feels painful. "Not much, something about reaction rate and metabolic pathways, and then you were definitely enjoying your dream a bit more than usual." He smirks, his tone lower and definitely more suggestive, "Was I in it?" Fucking fuck, bollocks, bugger!

No more lying, no more lying, Wren! Different Wren, different man, different approach! "No, but a test on enzymes was." "Hm..." He gives you a side glance. "It seems you really like enzymology." "I hate it actually, the only test I was struggling with the second year." You sigh and try to think about something else but Phil's naked body pressed in you.

The cursed brain doesn't comply. Him and Killian have a rule, no shagging in shared space. To think of it, you broke it every single time you ended up in their flat. The kitchen counter was your favourite, so many possibilities. You would always wipe it afterwards, which made Phil laugh his arse off. You really felt very guilty about it. The sofa in front of their unnecessary giant telly was the other hit. Why are you bloody thinking about it now?

You rub your eyes with your palms. "Sleepy?" Can he sound any more smug? "Endlessly. Just couldn't fall asleep last night. Don't know what's wrong with me these days." He chuckles. He starts tapping his long fingers on the wheel. "At least tonight you might get some sleep."

Hm... Which way should you take it? Him telling you that you are not spending this night together in case you were hoping to, or him hinting that he hopes you do indeed shack up? Bloody hell, you are so tired of this tension.

Sleep deprivation was never good for your mental ability. At least you are not blurting out the question or declaration of the feeling we do not speak of, and just drop your head back and close your eyes. You decide to be kind to your body, it had a rough couple of days. You just need some rest. You sleep the rest of the ride without any dreams.

**XXX**

The car stops, and Thea is climbing out of the back. "See you around, Dr. T," she gives him a radiant smile, and he lifts a brow. She guffaws and slams the door closed. You are going to fucking kill her!

You reach for the handle but his voice stops him. "Give me a ring tomorrow?" What now? He is dumping it on you? No bloody way! "After you talk to Maya, I'm sure she's already heard of your success." Oh, even better, that's what he is about here. You shift on the seat. "Sure. I have your card, so I'll text you how it went." Repeat after me, Dr. Sexy, Wren Leary has a spine and is an independent woman in her own right. "Lovely," he is smiling a lazy smile. You hate him so much right now.

He leans in and gives you a light kiss on the lips. Well, that's just low. "Bye," your smile is much less natural, and you dart out of the Land Rover. Thea is waiting for you at the steps with both your suitcases. The engine purrs, and he is gone. You pick up your bag. "Not a fucking word, Thea." She chuckles and shakes her head. You know you are pathetic, you really don't need her to remind you about it.

**XXX**

You can't sleep. You are pressing your face into your pillow, but the cursed organ wouldn't stop buzzing. Not that organ, the brain! You are too cold, then too hot, you are wiggling your toes, rubbing your eyes, toss and bloody turn.

You are a big girl, you know that you can'r sleep because you want to be curled up into his warm side, nuzzle and purr, but it is not possible! Common, Wren, just accept it. It is Sunday night, you need to sleep, tomorrow you are going to the lab and will have to face Dr. Maya "Alex Forrest" Caulfield, and before it you have classes, where you will probably run into your ex boyfriend you had a wet dream about in your current lover's car, since that is your luck these day.

Your phone announces in the voice of Benedict Cumberbatch "I've got a text." You peek. _Asleep? _What the actual fuck? What does he mean, are you asleep, of course you are, it is bloody two o'clock in the morning. _No. _

_Doing what? _Well, that's one step up from "What are you wearing?" but still… Or are you reading too much into it? He can't sleep, since he doesn't sleep and decided to check if you were. You fidget a bit and then type. _Reading. _

_Anything interesting? _See, Wren, it is not phone sex, he is just bored. Wow, did you just assume that was phone sex?!

You look at your bed table. Water, watch, nail file, pile of articles for uni, common, Wren, what is a decent reading material for a girl in your position? Not too brainy but not _Twilight. _You shudder, you would never!.. _Margaret Atwood. _Good, decent, feminist, perfect choice.

_Should I leave you alone with Ms. Atwood? _Ahhhh, you are going to bang your head into a wall. What are you supposed to answer to this? Does he realize he is constantly putting you into circumstances where you have to choose whether to be independent or to behave clingy? Oh, wait, of course he does, he is doing it on purpose, being his usual manipulative wanker self! Alright, the war is on!

_I'll take you over her. She doesn't provide enough stimulation._

The pause stretches. Ha! _Knowing you she is probably just exhausted. _What? Now you are the sex bunny in these relationships? He didn't let you sleep for two nights straight, there wasn't a single meal that wasn't interrupted by his grabby hands, to say nothing of the shower. You will forever blush now when seeing a loofah, and you are the exhausting one now?! _Well she isn't young anymore. Maybe she needs to take it easy._

_Minx. _

You are tempted to answer "Perv", but let's face it you were the one who offered to blindfold you last night. Not thinking about it right now, Wren. You are tapping your fingers on the comforter. You are not going to type anything right now, it's obviously the moment that if you answer it means you are trying to prolong this conversation. His text wasn't a question, you have nothing to say. Damn it, John, don't be a tosser, write something!

_I can't sleep without you. _

Oh my fucking God. Your hands are shaking. You start biting the skin around your nail, the habit you abandoned many years ago. Panic, panic, panic! Fuck, you are so happy right now.

_Can't sleep without you either. _Should you add that you miss him or that's too much? Too much. You hit "send" and bite into the edge of the comforter.

_I miss you. Good night, Wren._

What is a girl to do in this situation? _Miss you too. Night, John. _You fall back into your bedding, laughing and swinging your feet in the air. Fuck, that feels so fucking good!


	15. Chapter 15

The next day you do not bump into Phil. Neither do you see Dr. Caulfield in the lab when you go there after your classes. There are some internal emails waiting for you though. The first is from Maya congratulating you on the success of the presentation. It is perfectly polite and even not too generic. Alrighty.

The second one is from Dr. Yamazaki, cc'ed to all the employees, who praises Dr. John Thorington and Miss Wren Leary for ensuring the support of the Rivendell Institute. Alrighty again, you'll take it, you are not too proud.

The third one informs the lab that Dr. Thorington will be absent in the upcoming eight days from the lab, as if he ever comes here at all, since he is on his way to Tokyo for some important negotiations.

You reread it. And then again. Right, eight days, Tokyo, piece of cake. It's not like you need to see him every day. Or learn about the trip in a slightly more personalized way. You slam the laptop lid and lumber to the Arts library. Coffee, coffee, coffee…

Benedict murmurs from your pocket that you have a text. _I'll bring you a red nagajuban :) JT. _Blimey! Firstly, what a hell is this? He uses smileys! That's just bloody wrong. And secondly, you need to google _nagajuban. _Wait…

Seriously?! Are you supposed to take it as an adorable intimate joke or an insult? Is he buying you underwear because this is just wrong and oppressive and he can shove it up his… Anyways. And additionally, is he hinting you have loose morals and are pretty much a trollop? Or is he referring to you as an exquisite and educated young woman who can be compared to a geisha, who, and even you know that, are not prostitutes.

Pity, they don't sell booze here. You grab a cup, load it with the necessary amount of sugar and cream and sink into a sofa. You are sipping and then freeze. Did he say _a red nagajuban_? You go back to the Wikipedia page. Yep, geiko wear red or pink underkimonos. Tosser.

And the most disturbing question you are asking yourself, how much does he know about geishas in general? Suddenly your sexual exuberance this weekend loses half of its charm. Somehow you managed to forget whom were dealing with but now Phil's voice sounds in you head, "My uncle only sleeps with some expensive escort". And is intimately familiar with underkimono of geishas. And somehow managed all these years without any relationships but can make a woman come in two minutes. Literally.

And he is in Tokyo right now. The coffee suddenly tastes disgusting. You throw it out and go back to the lab. All you can do is work and _not _imagine him in a kimono, sipping sake, surrounded by immensely cultivated, ethereal women that can also probably perform such sexual acts that you clumsy tumble techniques would only cause condescending snorting. Great, you made yourself miserable.

**XXX**

You spend extra three hours after the workday in the lab, by the time you drag your sad arse out of it, most lights in the building are off. You are turning around a corner on the way to the entrance door and bump into a body. You start apologizing and then freeze with your mouth open.

You are staring in the bright brown eyes of Jimmy, the postgrad Irishman from the Genetics and the arsehole who broke your best friend's heart. You feel your fist clenching, and you seriously consider altering his jawline, though let's face it, it's not bad, all masculine, going well with the thick black eyebrows. "Wren, right?" What, is he actually fucking talking to you? You are giving him a death stare. "Jimmy, the wanker I presume?" He blinks then grins and nods. "Well deserved." "And much more as well," there is something endlessly likable about him. Maybe he can keep his jawline.

You shake your head and start walking by, but he grabs your upper arm. Seriously?! You glare, and he lets go. "Wren, can we talk for a mo?" "No, we most definitely cannot." You start walking, but he follows. "Wren, wait," your name sounds funny in his accent, "How is Thea?" You spin on your heels. "No, no, Jimmy what's your face, you did not just ask me how my glorious best friend whom you offended and whom you do not even deserve to talk about is! She is great as she finally got rid of you!" You know you are only partially angry at him, but venting is good.

You snarl and leave. Wanker.

**XXX**

Thankfully, Thea is not home and you take a quick shower and climb under your blanket. You are just going to sleep. You make yourself close your eyes and empty your head. No John, no geishas, no lab, no Maya… You repeat it like mantra and feel your lids getting heavier. No John, no Maya, no lab…

Doctor Who theme songs jerks you out of sleep and you grab the phone. "Yes, yes, I'm listening. Yes?" You are panting and sound panicked. "Wren?" The velvet voice is caressing your name, and your heart already beating frantically practically jumps out of your chest. "John?" The pause stretches. "No, Wren, it's Phil." Fuck, fuck, fuck! He swears and hangs up, and you are listening to a tone.

You carefully put the phone on your table, but after a few second of stupour you grab it and smash it into the wall. The pieces fly everywhere but you just don't have it in you anymore. You cover your head with the comforter and cry until you fall asleep.

**XXX**

In the morning everything seems so much better. You sweep the remnants of the poor device, take a shower, dress extra nicely and stop at the mobile shop before your classes. You upload your contacts from Google and go about your day. Everything is OK, everything is OK, you know what you are doing.

Four days pass and you don't hear from John. Which is totally fine, you are totally fine. Maybe he thought since you didn't answer to his first text that you don't want to chat. maybe there were more messages in the first night that you didn't answer and he got offended because you sort of ignored him. Maybe he is busy. Maybe he is shagging the most expensive geishas in Tokyo. You don't give a shite.

You come back home, have dinner and crawl in bed again. You tell yourself you are still compensating for the crazy weekend but the truth is you are just not sure how to deal with the world in general. You feel suspended in some sort of a bubble and you are not sure anymore what is real and what is not.

Was the wonderful weekend with John real? Was his tenderness and soft murmurs real? His hands sliding on your skin, his lips drawing patterns on your naked hip, his eyes smiling and tender? Was the happiness you felt real? You really don't know. You cover with your head and close your eyes.

Doctor Who blares again and you actually check the number display this time. _John Thorington. _

"Hello!" "Evening," it is all velvet and maple syrup, and you want to cry. "How are you?" Go to hell, John.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Thank you all for lovely reviews! I wrote this chapter yesterday, but was in doubt. So I waited for everyone to react :) Guest, thank you for a wonderful way to describe what happened on the weekend *wink*, I added it into the text :)**

**A/N#2: Build-up, build-up, build-up! :P Are you ready for a kaboom, my lovelies? There are about three chapters left...**

"How are you?" How _are _you, Wren, actually? Rotten. You want to scream, scream that you love him, miss him, that all you want is to to grab him, hide into him, into him smell, into him warmth, and never let him go. You want to feel happy, and light, and sexy, and powerful like you did in the Sheraton, like you matter, like you matter to him, that these were horrible four days, and you don't do that to a person you spent two days inside of!..

"I'm fine," you sound lifeless, "Catching up on some sleep." "Oh, I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" "It's alright." Isn't what you are supposed to say when people call you in the middle of the night, even if they actually wake you up even at three in the morning? You look at the clock. It's ten twenty. Very considerate, John. "What time is it in Tokyo?" "Seven twenty in the morning," you shiver. You forgot his sinful voice.

"How is the lab? Did Maya give you a hard time?" Judging by the sounds he is in a crowded place. "Are you having breakfast?" "Uh-huh," he is chewing. "Bon appetit. No, I haven't talked to Maya, she didn't show up in the lab actually yet."

Why are you fucking talking about this? Oh, right, because you are two grown-ups, intelligent and civilized, who just happened to have shagged each other six ways to Sunday on the weekend, and now he is having his bloody Japanese breakfast! Apparently that is how it is done. Very well, ask a polite question, it's your turn now, Wren. "How is Japan?"

"Mental, as always," he chuckles, "Not my favourite destination, I constantly feel like slouching here, I'm taking too much space everywhere."

There is room for an innuendo in here, but you feel suddenly tired. There is no spark. You just want to go back under your blanket. "Wren, are you alright?" You realize you've been quiet for a while. "Sorry?" "I expected a pun regarding size and taking room from you in here." He sounds so cheery. You just hate him.

"Sorry, I am just distracted..." "Are you sure you are alright?" Now he sounds genuinely concerned. You guess he really doesn't find anything wrong in not calling you for four days. Maybe he is right, maybe you have teenage ideas about relationships, maybe that's what grown-up do. He knew you would get the internal email and he sent you a flirty text. Were you barmy to expect something else?

"Yeah, I'm fine..." You hear the entrance door bang, and Thea's voice is ringing in the kitchenette. She is obviously on the phone, but she sounds strange. Oh bugger, she is crying! "John, I'm sorry, I have to go, something came up." "Wren..." "Bye, thanks for calling." You hang up and jump out of the bed.

Thea is sitting on a kitchen chair, still in her coat, her face covered in black streaks of run away mascara, eyes red and puffy. She is still on the phone, listening to an obviously male voice in her mobile. You freeze in front of her waiting for guidance. She lifts her eyes at you and shakes her head. You turn around and go back to your room. The phone is still in the middle of your bed. Smashing the second one into a wall in five days is a wee bit excessive, so you just shove it in the bed table. Sod your life.

**XXX**

Half an hour later Thea comes in your room, she washed her face and wears a comfy PJs. She crawls under your blanket, and you are lying down holding each other. "Jimmy called," oh bugger. "He says he loves me and asks for forgiveness." You both are silent for a bit. "What do I do?" You stroke her hair and hum noncommittally. But she sits up. "No, I'm serious, you are the one for real relationships, Wren, what do I do?"

You are not sure if you are supposed to laugh at the irony or cry for both of you, two stupid muppets. "I do not know a single fucking thing about relationships, Thea." She is scanning your face. "Has Dr. Sexy called you finally?" "Yep." "And what?"

You rub your face. "Can we talk about Jimmy the Wanker?" "Don't call him that," she suddenly looks shy. "Thea?" She blushes, God forsaken honest blush! You didn't know she could. Fuck me! "Thea?" "It's not like he cheated..."

No, Thea, no! Or maybe, yes, yay for Thea?.. What?! Your mind reels, but then you stop yourself. You can't give advice. You are like a ragdoll right now, you feel broken and scared and insecure, you are the last person in this world to pass judgment on relationships… You inhale. "So you are getting back together with him?"

She fidget with the string on her top. "I don't know. I'm considering it." Exhale. Calm your tits, Wren, just be a good friend. "Do you want to talk about it?" She looks hopeful. "Can we? Because I know you have your own drama..." "Thea, shut up! You had to listen to my emotional rubbish for years. Tell me everything," she looks doubtful for a second, "I mean everything you want. No gross details though." She chuckles. "But that's the best part." Here is the shadow of old Thea. "No, Thea, no graphic descriptions of his penis, please." She finally laughs.

"But give me the numbers, Thea." Oh, sweet revenge!

**XXX**

You wake up in the morning and for the first time since Sheraton you feel OK. OK is the most precise way of putting it. Normal, fine, OK, alright. You get dressed and go to your classes. On the way you stop in the Engineering coffee shop. Their coffee is like a cannonball to your temple. Boom, brains out, but you are very energised. Also, might destroy some of your important internal organs but that is exactly what you need before Perkins.

You are dashing through the hall when a pair of strong hands catches you and swirls you around. The familiar fragrance of Terre d'Hermes hits your nose, and you are mortified. Phil's hands are still on your shoulders. "Wren, can we talk?" You are frozen, staring at the collar of his polo. "Wren?" "I have Perkins now," let's face you really don't know what else to say. Your voice in tiny and trembling. "I know I still have your class calendar synchronized with mine." You lift your eyes, and see that, fuck your brain, he is smiling. The warm, sunny, Phil smile. "Just wanted to catch you before it. Lunch?"

What?! What?! Your brain shuts down, and you are gaping like a guppie. He smiles wider. "Wren?" "Yes?" "Lovely, I'll pick you up after Perkins. Stay in the hall," he kisses your cheek and leaves.

Seriously, you have nothing.


	17. Chapter 17

You always thought that the main problem in heterosexual relationships, you can't judge for gay, is that men and women have this absolutely different way their brains are wired. Say, a bloke fancies you, he is still the same person. They have this small part of them that is barmy about you, but then again he can shove it down and just go and do his work, like signing contracts, testing medical equipment and eating sushi off a naked stomach of a gorgeous girl. While men sort of go about their day, turn it on and off, we are having relationships with them even when they are not present. Like we are having a silent conversation with them, and they are not even bloody here. You had a lot going on with John in these four days.

Right now you are having a dialogue with Phil, twenty minutes into Perkins' lecture. You are the only one who is not paying attention in the auditorium. Also, it is probably the first time you are not pissing from fear in his class.

"Miss Leary, you seem rather distracted today", his screechy voice makes everyone in the room jerk. "Is it your fame of a new star of biochem making your head so swollen after becoming Dr. Yamazaki's new protege? Or is it the fact that you think you are under the protection of the almighty Dr. John Thorington these days, after the chummy weekend in the Rivendell?" Congrats, Wren, did your actually forget what a bloody small community it is?

You lift your eyes and realize the whole audience is staring at you. You look at Perkins, his lips contorted in a venomous smirk. OK, you are obviously not passing this class.

A quite unexpected blow, but in the context of the last few days sort of not that painful. "Both I suppose, sir." The room gasps, and you get up. "I apologise for my lack of attention, but I think I'll just go to the library and read the manuscripts from the sixteenth century, they seem to be more up to date than this lecture," you pick up your stuff and walk by him. "Have a good day."

You walk through the halls, eyes glossy and heart throbbing in your throat. You just insulted a professor, Perkins out of all people, and what are you going to do now? You go up the stairs and sit on a bench of the Japanese roof garden. You are staring at the elegant board "Donated by Dr. John Crispin Thorington". Let's face it, Wren, you had better days.

**XXX**

Three hours pass, and you are still sitting at the same spot. Maybe if you don't leave this place, the world outside will disappear. You desperately want a fag, yet another forgotten habit, but it feels wrong to smoke in a pristine Japanese garden.

Someone sits near you, and you screw your eyes. Phil's blue eyes are warm, gleaming with smile. "Thought I'd find you here, love." You used to come here together, in those two weeks, you seemed to form so many mutual habits. Maybe because there were years of knowing each other to base it all on.

You feel tears running down your cheeks. You suddenly remember how easy it was with him. When you were not wrecked with doubts about John, and those were very short tinges of pain, the rest was like one big fifth birthday party. Laughter, warmth, happiness… The first time in bed, easy, light, comfortable, first morning, first breakfast, every night together, every morning in his arms, his endless flirty texts, his calls, his lips on your cheek before classes...

He pulls you into his side and wraps his arms around your shoulders. "Common, love, nothing to cry about. You should be elated, you just did what people have been dreaming of for the last fifteen years." You sniff. "Wren Leary, the mighty hero, sticking it up to Perkins." You choke out a shaky laugh. He gives you a lopsided grin.

"Common, I'll treat you to your favourite tacos." You nod, get up and grab your hand bag. And only then remember that you are not together anymore. You are not his girlfriend, he should not be treating you to your favourite tacos, or holding your hand like he is right now, or rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. You jerk your hand out of his grip.

"Phil," he turns around and hikes his brows. "I can't, I shouldn't… If you want to talk, can we just talk here?" You are mumbling and probably look like a stubborn child. "I just want to have lunch," he lifts his hands in a mock defense. "No, you don't. We haven't talked for seven months. We are not friends to have a chummy lunch together. What is it that you want, Phil?" Good, your sanity seems to coming back.

For a second there you lost it, he enveloped you in his strength and warmth, and you started dissolving, but that is what started it last time, and you learnt your lesson. How come you never realized before how this warm presence of his is like a quicksand? As far away as John seems right now, and as lonely and miserable as you are, you are not going to make the same mistake twice. It's just been four days, you are still together, whatever it is you are together in. You can' t have lunch with Phil now. Anybody else but Phil.

You sit back on the bench and press your lips sternly. He hesitated for a second but then flops near you. "Wren, you are right, we are not friends, but… I want to fix it. Blimey, Wren, it all got so arsed up, and I acted like dimshit, but I want to fix it," he grabs your hands and you want to pull them back. He presses his fingers harder, and suddenly you remember how he tricked you into talking. That morning in bed, when you had nowhere to hide and nowhere to run… Exposed, vulnerable, broken. You jerk you hands back and frown.

"I don't think we can be friends again, Phil, we hurt each other and it can't be _fixed_," you emphasize his choice of words, "we messed up and..." "Wren, I'm not talking about being friends, I mean getting back together. We can be open with each other this time around…"

What the fuck? "Are you fucking mental?" "Wren, I get it, you had a thing for my uncle, but now that it's over, I want to try…" You jump at your feet and stare at him. "What about your uncle?" Phil leans back on the bench. "Listen, Wren, I get it. You had feelings for him, but I bet they are gone after the Rivendell. He is known for efficiently chucking a girl so she never comes back. You got it out of your system, great. And we can start slow, I mean, we were great friends…" Your mind is racing so much that it is actually painful.

"Does everyone know about the Rivendell?" "That you shagged him there, of course. Do I care though? No. Wren, I get it, I had these shagfests myself, and those older professory types… But what we have is different, we can make it work..."

You stare at him, he seems to go on talking but you really don't hear anything anymore. Fuck, you will agonize about the rumours later, but what a fuck is going on in Phil's head? He is fine with it, is that what he just said?! We have something special?! And then it clicks.

"Did your mom suggest you talk to me?" He looks at you as if in confusion, but you've known him for too long. You can see he is lying. "What does my mom have to do with it, Wren? Do you even hear what I'm saying?" "I hear you, Phil, and I'm telling you, you really need some help. You know, in the noggin department! Are you actually OK with dating a girl who just fucked your uncle for like two days in a row?"

"I am not a monk myself, Wren, didn't know you were the type, but OK," he shrugs, "and it's not about sex..." Fuck! You grab handfuls of your hair and stare at him in disbelief. And then you hear John's voice in your head. "My sister is a fucking copy of our mother." "Wren," he stretches his hand to you, a powerful intrusive gesture that he is so fond of, "We were happy together, we can do it, all cards on the table, clean slate. Exclusive and honest this time."

You are considering telling him you are in love with John, yelling it into his face, shaking him out of the twisted sick mess he is in, but then you think it's just not going to work. He is who he is. And today is just one of those days when you have no patience for the sick and twisted.

"No, Phil, it's not going to happen. Just no," you think he is still talking, but you just leave.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: So, this chapter is "Ka-" and the next will be "-boom!":) Ready?**

"And what exactly did you expect?' Thea is giving you a skeptical look. "You shag the most famous neurosurgeon in this hemisphere, in a hotel full of your colleagues, then there is the Scene at the tea thingie, and you think no one will know?" You poke a slice of tomato with your fork. "I wasn't thinking about it at all. I mean I did… but sort of… not really..." Thea switches from skepticism to pity. "Wrennie, it was inevitable. Now the cat is out of the bag. Great, no need to worry about that anymore."

You wish you had her attitude. You inflict another stab wound on the poor vegetable. Wait, it's technically a fruit. "Dicky though..." Thea shakes her head. "Didn't know he had it in him." "What?" "I mean I thought he actually fancied you, you know, your way, like hearts and fluttering feels," Thea makes a disgusted face, "And he is all "arranged marriage" and "we are a good couple" cold now..."

"I don't think that's what it was, Thea. His freaky mom obviously added some pressure into this, but maybe he really wanted to start from a scratch and clean slate, and he did say exclusive and stuff…" You are mumbling.

"Are you considering it?" You lift your eyes at her. She is bloody serious. "Are you mad?" "Why not? He is right, you two worked. You were all happy and perky, and you shagged like night and day, and you didn't have this bloody sad arse expression on your face like you have now." "It's because he is not calling! I was very cheery on the weekend, and we had much better sex than with Phil!" "Are you convincing me or yourself?" That's a bloody good question. You pick up the plate and shove it into the fridge. "I'll finish it later. Not hungry..." Thea shakes her head. "Are you going to start getting super skinny and bottled up again?" You do not bestow her with a bloody answer.

**XXX**

It's nine, and you decide that you are not going to go to bed, though it's all you really want. It is a slightly wonky behaviour already, and the last thing you need right now is to spiral into a full scale depressive episode.

You decide to clean up your room. Always helps. Organize your thoughts. Decide what to do with Perkins. Ouch. One thing is clear, you are not apologising. He crossed the line, humiliated you in front of other students, and if the Dean calls you into his office tomorrow, you are going to fight. And whatever they say about you behind your back these days, fuck it, you are a new star of biochem and you do indeed have the Yamazaki grant. You will demand respect.

Doctor Who… You check the screen and pick up. "Evening, John. Well, morning to you." "Morning, Wren, am I interrupting?" Oh, that's his sarcastic tone, heard it many times before. Is he actually miffed? "No, not today, sorry about yesterday. Thea drama." He is silent for a bit. Is he doubting you? What the fuck?

"I got an email from a kind colleague of mine regarding your aggro with Perkins." Sod it, is there anything that doesn't get discussed among the medical community? "Um, yep, he was out of line." "You might end up in trouble for this, Wren, that wasn't a very smart move." He sounds peevish. Great… "Thank you for your evaluation, Dr. Thorington, I'll reconsider my behaviour."

Yuck, that was way too snarky. He is quiet. Fuck it, you are not going to speak first, enough of this shite! He sighs.

"Let me talk to Perkins, Wren, after all as I was informed my name was mentioned in his speech as well…" "No, just no, that's ridiculous!" You really shouldn't raise your voice at him, but the dam around your emotions has been compromised this afternoon when his nephew called the most beautiful weekend in your life "shagfest". "You have no right to interfere. You are not my father, and I wouldn't let my father to speak for me either! It's my life. And you will only make it worse. I will look like your mistress!" "You are my mistress!"Wow, did he just snarl at you?

"Bloody hell, Wren, you can't sleep with me and expect that it won't influence your life! You didn't shag some first year student from an unknown family. Obviously, people will talk and discuss, and you seemed to not care in the Sheraton! Are you backing off now?"

You definitely did not look at it from this angle. Is he seeing this as you regretting and being ashamed of him? You try to speak calmly. "I am not backing off, I'm just saying that it is my life…" "You are not single anymore, Wren. It concerns me too now!" Fuck, he is straight yelling now. "What?" "You are dating me and you can't expect me to just sit and watch you struggle." "We are dating?" That was a God honest squeak there, Wren.

He sighs again, an exasperated sigh. "We had a date, Wren, we are dating." "We had beer in a pub." "You slept with me." "I didn't know it is dating in your books."

Let's face it, if by this age you haven't developed that filter between your mind and your mouth, there is very little hope left for you.

And then you realize what you are saying! Bloody hell, he is going to think you are pressuring him, pushing him into commitment. And he will just dump you and then you'll die. "John, I..."

"Shut up, Wren," his voice sounds strange. "John, I'm sorry..." "Please, can you stop talking, Wren? I'm gathering my thoughts here." You literally clasp your hand over your mouth. Your heart is beating somewhere in your throat. Please, please, please, tell me I didn't arse this up!

"Wren, I understand you don't trust me. Makes sense, we had a rocky start, but I thought I was clear on what we are doing here. There is no need twisting my arm into any declarations." Declarations? Is he talking about what you think he is talking about? No, of course not, don't be bloody stupid, Wren!

"I don't need any declarations. A phone call would be nice, but no declarations." Shut the gob, Wren! "I am calling you." "Before Japan, John," oh, you are getting emotional again, "You could have called and said you were leaving!" "Didn't you get an email?" "You just said I'm your mistress, don't I get a more personalized message?"

Oh, stop it, stop it, you are ruining it all! You are sitting in a corner of your room, your knees pulled up to your nose. Remember, Wren, how Thea showed you an article in Cosmo that said that the worst phrase you can say to a man is "You could have blah-blah-blah" because they can't change anything anyways and they hate feeling guilty and apologise? And Thea said the worst phrase to say to a man is "I thought it would be bigger." Yep, that's exactly what Cosmo was talking about.

"I sent you a text..." His tone is very even, no emotions in it whatsoever. "And you haven't called me for four days." Oh bugger. Kill me now. Where is your common sense, Wren? Where is "I want to build relationships with Dr. Sexy and I'm going to be smart about it"? He is going to say he was busy. He will be irritated, you will feel like he brushed off your complaint, the aggro will just stay here, hanging above your heads. You lips tremble. Don't cry, don't cry…

"I'm sorry," his voice is low and heavy, "I really am, Wren. I just needed some distance. Some time to think. To sort it out in my head."

Oh no, he is dumping you.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: And BOOM! :) That's the last chapter, my lovelies! Ready?**

"I'm sorry," his voice is low and honest, "I really am, Wren. I just needed some distance. Some time to think. To sort it out in my head." He sighs. "I should have called, but I felt..."

Trapped? Annoyed? Happy to get away from you?

"Scared," you can hear him exhale sharply. "I miss you, Wren. And it is a bloody new feeling." Oh god… You bite your lip. "I have trouble sleeping," he is chuckling, "Even more than usual."

Oh fuck, the relief, he is not dumping you. It is just your usual misunderstanding, you are fine, you just don't know how to talk to each other.

His voice is velvet, he is obviously smiling, "I have this weird feeling like we just don't know how to talk to each other." Oh my fucking God! "Like we speak different languages, Wren. I always seem to say something wrong. Or, given you are a rare odd thing, don't understand what you are saying." You feel the tears on your cheeks. "Wren?"

"Uh-huh," you really don't trust your voice right now. "Maybe," his sinful voice is an octave lower, "we should just keep on having sex, at least there we seem to communicate nicely." "I approve of this plan," your laugh is shaky.

But then you think of all the past and how it has to be different to work. "But maybe we still should talk a little bit," although you really want to hear his uncontrollable talking in bed. "Well, you would hear me talk a lot if we were just shagging," his throaty chuckle is the best thing you have ever heard in your life. You giggle. "You know, Wren, I think that little giggle of yours is the best thing I have ever heard in my life." You are not even surprised anymore.

And you are so in love with him! "Wren, I..." Fuck. "I..." Well, common! He clears his throat. "I'll be back in two days, can I ask you for a favour?"

Yes, John, for you anything! Does he want you to water his flowers? Pick up his laundry? Warm up his bed before he comes back? "When I'm back I would love to find you in my flat, well, in one particular spot in my flat, can you do this for me?" "I don't have a key." "I'll email the concierge to let you in."

"Alright. On one condition," you have a low suggestive tone too. "Yes, Wren, for you anything." He is laughing. "Bring me a kimono, and not some creepy geisha underwear." He guffaws. "I actually checked a Wikipedia page to send you that text. I have no idea what geishas wear, Wren."

**XXX**

His lips are sliding up from your knees, hands caressing your hips. Then they slide on your inner thighs, and you moan. He is still dressed in his coat and you are pushing it off his shoulders. The tie and the jacket follow, he is moaning and mumbling into your skin. Shoes, trousers and socks, shirt, pants, he pushes you back on the bed, and your wrap your arms and legs around him.

You are still dressed, but you didn't have much on to start with. You gave in to Thea's pressure. You guess the red lacy set was the right choice. It is on the floor in a few second though. You are surprised you even got to bed. He is kissing your neck and although you are used to his talking by now, you realize that the leitmotives seem to have changed. "Wrennie, Wrennie, oh God, I missed you… God, never going anywhere again." You are arching into him.

He presses his cock into you and then pauses. His lips are gently brushing your ear, and you realize he is asking something. "What?" you pant out. "Are you on a pill, Wren?" Oh yes, please! You nod. He gulps but doesn't move. "Please, can we?.." He is still hiding his face into your neck. You nod again, and he pushes into you.

This is the most exquisite feeling you have ever experienced in your life. The hot skin, the length, the thickness, oh, he has missed you! "God, I have missed you..." You smile, and he starts moving. He pushes into you, deep determined thrusts, and you are crying out. Your hands are splayed on his back, his cock rubbing on your inner walls and just the right spot there. You feel like every breath you take presses you closer to him, his coarse chest hair deliciously rubbing your oversensitive breasts, and then he lifts his torso and supports himself on his elbows. His hands cup your jaw and he halts his hips. His kisses are suddenly slow and loving, thumbs rubbing your cheekbones. Then even these caresses stop, and he is staring into your eyes. "Wren, I..." The panic, the vulnerability, the raw emotions, all of it is splashing in his eyes, and you smile into them. Sometimes you need to be the knight in shining armour, and save your Dark and Sexy damsel in distress. "I know," you kiss his lips and he emits a funny sound. It is a moan and a sob and a chuckle. "Stop pitying me," you laugh and kiss him again. He is kissing your neck now and his hips start moving again. Long, almost painfully deep strokes, your calves on his delicious buttocks, and you rake his back with your nails. "Oh Wrennie..."

You are moving together, you meet each of his thrusts with a lift of your hips, and your lips are fused together, tongues caressing, his hands still on the sides of your face, and you bury yours into his hair. You are looking into his eyes, and they are shining, radiant, happy, candid. You laugh from a sudden feeling of a complete, undiluted happiness, and he laughs with you, though obviously not understanding the reason, and then you feel the hot wave of climax approaching and you push up your hips, squeeze his pelvis and waist with your legs, spurring him, and he picks up speed. The first hot spurge of his cum hits your walls, and the orgasm bursts inside you. You cry out and arch your back to the limit. He thrusts several more times, hitting your cervix, and you are screaming from the pleasure, tears bursting from your eyes. "Wrennie, Wrennie, my Wrennie, God, I love you..."

He is panting, pressing his face into your neck, and sobbing starts shaking your body. God, shut it, Wren, he'll think you are mental. He lifts his face and looks at you. You sniff and try containing the emotions. Never worked with you before. "Tell me that's happy tears!" He is laughing but you think his eyes are a bit wet too. You are probably imagining it. "They are! God, they are, I just haven't had sex for a while, and never without a condom, and I missed you, and I guess…" "Shut up, Wren!" he presses his lips to yours, and you laugh into his mouth. He lets you go and laughs too.

Then he drops his head on the pillow near yours. You are busking in the afterglow and then suddenly you freeze. Did he say?.. Every muscle in your body is tense, and he chuckles into your neck that he just started kissing. "Did my sloppy declaration only just reached your brain?" You gulp. "Yes?" He snorts. Then he lifts his head and looks into your eyes. They are probably twice as big as normal. He lifts one glorious, mouth-watering, panties-dropping brow. "You are being impolite, Wrennie." Oh the fake strict tone! All professory and hot! "Oh, I love you too." "Good," and he is kissing you again.

THE END

P.S. Maybe...


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